you will learn
how to inhale the ocean
without getting salt in all of your wounds

from "Hurricanes" Or "Ten Things To Remember When Trying To Be Okay" by K.T.M.

.

Now:

On the second day of their training, Kili looked at her and frowned.

"We made you uncomfortable yesterday," he said matter-of-factly.

"What?" uttered Bilbo, not having to feign surprise. She hadn't thought anyone had noticed, and she certainly hadn't imagined Kili would be the one to notice. When she glanced to Fili, she found him watching her with dawning realization. "No, it's fine. Really, Kili. It's fine."

"No." Kili shook his head. "This is supposed to help you feel more safe. Not less. We'll try to be better about respecting your space but please inform us of anything else you need."

After that, their training grew more comfortable and Bilbo found herself watching Kili as the days and nights wore on, hoping to catch another glimpse of the Dwarf she was beginning to suspect he might be.

Where the days had dragged on at the beginning of the journey, they suddenly began to rush by as the Company marched their way across the wilds. Bilbo's days were more full than they had ever been. More and more often, the Dwarves (especially Fili and Kili) would include her in conversations as they rode. As soon as the Company halted for the evening and camp had been set up, the two young Dwarves would steal her away to train her.

The three of them quickly drew an audience in the evenings and, Bilbo suspected, a betting pool. More often than not, the advice the other Dwarves yelled at her distracted her more than it helped her. But much to Bilbo's surprise - and to the surprise of the Dwarves as well, she suspected - she wasn't completely terrible at fighting. At the very least, she hadn't caused permanent injury to herself (and the Dwarves were far too quick to let her injure them).

Thorin was the only Dwarf who didn't seem interested in watching or helping Bilbo learn the basics of fighting. This didn't surprise Bilbo, nor did it bother her. In fact, she was rather glad he kept his distance in the evenings and during the day. There was something about the Dwarf King and the way that anger and frustration seemed to always be just below the surface that made Bilbo uncomfortable. Or perhaps it was the way he held himself, confident and dominating. For reasons she couldn't find a name for, he made her nervous, wary.

The other Dwarves sometimes inspired a similar reaction from Bilbo, but less and less often, and really only when they startled her. She was eager to get to know them and the more she did, the more comfortable she was around them. By the time they had been on the road a month, Bilbo had asked each of the Dwarves (excepting Thorin and Dwalin, who were by far the least approachable and had very little interest in speaking to Bilbo in the first place) to dispense with formality and call her by her given name.

The more time they spent together and the more Bilbo learned about each of the Dwarves, the more she began to consider them friends. She hadn't really had friends other than Fredegar for many years so Bilbo was eager to nurture her relationship with each Dwarf.

"Does anyone else have a wife and children back in the Blue Mountains?" Bilbo asked one night as they sat around the fire. With one hand, she massaged the sore muscles of her shoulder. "Other than Bombur and Gloin?"

"Nay," said Dori, shaking his head. "These two were the only ones lucky enough to snag Dwarrowdams."

"Mahal knows how," said Bofur with a sly smile. This earned laughter from the group and a slap to the back of his head from his brother.

"Bifur had a husband, once," added Bombur, when the others had quieted down. He looked suddenly more somber. "He was killed in battle."

Bilbo looked to Bifur, hand coming up to clutch at her chest. She knew some of the Dwarves were warriors but other than Bifur's obvious head wound, sometimes she forgot how much that must have affected them. "I'm so sorry," she said earnestly. "I didn't know."

The Dwarf shot her a smile that was sad but sincere. He gestured something to his cousins, fingers twisting in that strange way he often communicated.

"He says it was a long time ago," relayed Bombur, "and thanks you for your kindness."

"Time doesn't always make such things easier to bare," said Bilbo, thinking of how her parents' deaths still felt like a gaping wound sometimes.

There was a moment of quiet, interrupted only by the crackling of the fire and the occasional snorting and stamping of the ponies. The cheery atmosphere had been dispelled momentarily by seriousness. But it didn't last long.

"What about you, lass?" asked Nori suddenly. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Hobbit lad back home?"

Bilbo should have expected this line of questioning to come back to her, but she found herself startled and somewhat at a loss for what to say. She looked down, dragging a line through the dirt with her toe.

"Well," she said after a moment with a strangled, self-deprecating sort of laugh, "I don't know if he'll be waiting for me any longer after what I put him through."

She hoped he wouldn't be waiting for her if she decided to return. Bilbo half expected that she'd be killed on this quest, especially since her lessons with Fili and Kili were progressing slowly and she was sure she had no hope of defending herself in an actual battle. And even if she did live, she wasn't sure if she would go back to the Shire. Fredegar's moods were not often predictable but she knew without a doubt that he would be furious with her for breaking her promise, gallivanting off on an adventure with strangers without his permission, and causing such a scandal for him. She had written in her letter to him that she hoped to return to beg his forgiveness, but the longer she spent away from him, the more she realized she was not eager to return.

Several of the Dwarves leaned in closer, expressions expectant as their smiles returned. The Dwarves did so love a good story.

Bilbo hesitated to say anything more. She was still no closer to understanding how she felt about what had happened between her and Fredegar, and Ori had told her just the day before that Dwarves loved only once. What would they think of her after learning she had run out on her betrothed? To them, would that seem an even worse betrayal than it was among Hobbits?

"I…"

"You need not say anything, lass," interjected Balin when she could not find the words to continue. "We'll not be offended if you tell us to mind our own business."

"I just…" Bilbo trailed off helplessly. She hated lying to the Dwarves when they had been so kind to her. "I fear you'll all think very poorly of me if you learn what I've done."

"Surely ye haven't done anything that bad," laughed Bofur. "Ye haven't killed anyone, have ye?"

Bilbo looked to him, utterly startled. "No! Of course not! How could you even-"

"Stolen someone's wealth?" he continued, eyebrow raised.

"No! By the Valar, Bofur, I already told you I'm no burglar."

"Stolen someone's sweetheart?" This was Nori, who looked almost eager for her to say yes. Honestly. Dwarves and their love of gossip.

Bilbo leveled her most unamused glare at him. "No, I have not," she ground out.

"Then it can't be that bad, Bilbo," said Bofur with another chuckle. "Although perhaps we should ask how many lads you've maimed with that deadly glare of yours."

Bilbo turned her glare on Bofur, who grinned but held up his hands in surrender.

The rest of the Dwarves were still looking at her with expectant grins. Bilbo slumped forward, her resolve withered.

"I left him," she whispered. Bilbo stared hard at the fire so she wouldn't have to look anyone in the eye. It was the light from the flames that was making her eyes water. Definitely the light. "He's been my fiance for two seasons, almost three, and we were in the middle of planning our wedding and I left him."

The Dwarves had fallen silent. She doubted anyone was smiling now.

"You have to understand," she rushed to say, voice breaking, "this was never how any of it was supposed to go. I never wanted to hurt anyone, but especially not him!"

She wiped the tears from her face, feeling disgusted with herself. "I don't know why I feel so betrayed by him, by what he did that night. I've turned it over and over in my mind and he didn't do anything wrong!"

Bilbo took a deep breath, tucking her chin to her chest and letting her hair fall in front of her face. For a long moment, the only sound in camp was the merry crackling of their fire.

"You're not making much sense, Bilbo," said Bofur finally, slowly. Like he was choosing his words very carefully. Or maybe like he was speaking to a wounded animal, wary of startling it. "What did he do?"

Bilbo stood abruptly, something cold and uncomfortable settling in the pit of her stomach. "I'm sorry," she said brusquely, brushing the dirt from her trousers. "I never should have said anything."

"Bilbo…?" one of the Dwarves called, Bombur maybe, but she was already stomping away from camp.

She hadn't made it more than a few paces when a large hand suddenly wrapped around her upper arm. Bilbo gasped, yanking away.

Thorin stared down at her, eyes hard. Bilbo had forgotten he hadn't been sitting with the rest of them.

"Don't go far, Burglar," he rumbled out, looking displeased. One hand was still outstretched, curled around nothing but air. Bilbo felt uneasy knowing that she had broken free of his grasp only because he had allowed her to.

Bilbo nodded sharply and quickly hurried past him to where the ponies had been tied for the night. She stood for a long time, running a hand through Myrtle's mane until she finally felt the knots in her stomach begin to loosen.

She did not sleep well that night.

.

No one mentioned anything the following morning about Bilbo's fiance and her betrayal of him, or her restless night of sleep. Rather, they acted as though the conversation had never occurred at all, other than a few concerned glances in her direction. Bilbo was incredibly grateful. She had said too much the previous evening and very much regretted having said anything at all.

Bilbo felt uneasy for most of the day and was too distracted to really participate in conversation. What she had let slip to the Dwarves was true - as much as she turned that night over in her head, she still could not figure out why she felt so betrayed. She couldn't figure out why it had terrified her so much that she had reacted by running out on the life she had built for herself.

She was still no closer to understanding it than she had been the night it had happened.

Bilbo had thought - hoped - that no one would mention the conversation again, but apparently the Dwarves were too concerned to let it go.

It was Fili who pulled her aside as camp was being established in the fading light of day. He took her gently by the arm and led her a little away from the other Dwarves and Gandalf, who had rejoined them that day as if he had never left. Fili looked her over carefully, as though searching for some wound he might bandage and heal.

If only it were that simple, Bilbo thought to herself.

"If you ever want to talk," he said, brow furrowed in concern, "you need only find me or Kili. Or any of us, really. You've grown on us and we do not like to see you so upset."

"Thank you, Fili." Bilbo gave him the best smile she could muster. "But it's quite unnecessary. Everything is just fine."

Fili looked skeptical and unhappy. His grip on her arm tightened slightly. "If he hurt you somehow, none of us would fault you in the least."

Bilbo's heart plummeted and she stepped back, wrenching her arm from his grip like she had done the night before with Thorin. What was it with these Durins and grabbing her by the arm?

"He did nothing of the sort," Bilbo said sharply, crossing her arms over her chest with a fierce glare, "and I'll thank you not to make such assumptions again."

She could feel Fili's eyes on her as she marched away, but she refused to look back. She had been touched by his concern at first, but now she was only indignant at his assumption.

Freddie had done nothing wrong, she was almost certain of it. It was her who had been in the wrong, leading him on like that and then selfishly thinking only of her own comfort. She was the one who had overreacted and blown things out of proportion. Something must be wrong with her, to feel the way she did.

.

They came across a smattering of farms a few days later. Bilbo, who had not stocked up on food since the Company had passed by Bree, was eager to stop and see if she could trade for some biscuits or bread.

She often gathered berries, nuts, seeds, and edible plants as they traveled or when they made camp in the evenings but lately these hadn't been sitting well in her stomach and she hoped she might fare better with something else. She was tired of being so nauseated all the time.

Unlike when they had stopped in Bree, Thorin refused to let Bilbo go off alone. When he informed her someone must go with her, Kili happily volunteered. Although she would never have requested that anyone accompany her because she didn't want the Dwarves to think she was weak and useless, Bilbo was secretly relieved that she would not have to approach the farms by herself. The incident in Bree had unsettled her greatly and she was glad that, with Kili there, there would be no chance of a repeat.

Kili offered his arm to her as they walked away from the Company and Bilbo gladly accepted, placing her hand in the crook of his elbow and allowing herself to pretend for a moment that she was back in the Shire taking a stroll with Fredegar. They had been so happy together.

"Everything alright, Bilbo?"

She looked over at Kili, only to find him watching her closely and looking faintly concerned.

"Just fine!" she said, making her voice cheerier than she felt. "Why do you ask?"

His frown seemed to deepen momentarily before it disappeared completely and his expression evened out. He looked ahead again and shrugged. "Sometimes," he said, not looking at her, "you get really sad."

Bilbo's heart gave a little lurch. Apparently she wasn't as good at hiding it as she'd thought. Hopefully Kili was the only one who'd noticed, though Bilbo doubted it. She was never that lucky.

For a moment, she considered assuring Kili that she was fine. But the thought of lying to him so outright made her stomach sour from guilt. So instead she gave his arm a squeeze and said nothing at all.

After a few minutes of silence as they picked their way carefully across the fields, Bilbo turned her thoughtful gaze back to Kili.

"You know," she said, "you had me fooled at first."

Kili met her gaze, baffled. Their steps slowed almost to a stop.

"You had me fooled into thinking you were this carefree faunt, only along on this journey because of your bloodline." She watched him carefully, looking for any sign that she was misstepping or that he would take her words as an insult. "But you're observant and careful and calculating. Everyone always looks to Thorin or Fili but I think… I think you're the one they should watch out for."

The corner of Kili's mouth quirked up into a sly smile. "Perhaps I'm not the only one who's more observant than most give them credit for."

Bilbo let out a laugh, satisfied she'd gotten it right and a little relieved she hadn't overstepped. Kili gestured forward and they resumed walking as he elaborated,

"Our mother said it's the curse of being the younger sibling. No one will ever take you seriously unless you make them. She certainly did. Proved herself and now no one dares cross her. But I figure that if everyone is constantly underestimating me, I will always have the advantage. Fili thought it was rather clever." He smiled brightly and winked at her, saying, "And it means I get to goof off while he has to be boring and serious."

"That sounds much more entertaining," said Bilbo wryly.

They were drawing near to the first farmhouse. A man emerged from the nearby barn as they did so, eyeing them warily. He placed himself between them and the farmhouse, leaning on his pitchfork.

"Can I help you folks?" he asked. As they approached, Bilbo could see that he was fairly young, perhaps middle-aged in man years. His skin was brown from years in the sun but not yet overtaken by wrinkles. His tight grip on the pitchfork suggested he was prepared to use it to defend his home if Kili and Bilbo proved hostile.

"Good afternoon, sir," said Bilbo, giving him a friendly smile. "We were passing by on our way to visit family when we saw your farm. My husband believes we can sustain ourselves on wild game for our entire journey," here she shot Kili an exasperated look, "but I grow weary of the taste. Do you perhaps have some milk or cheese or flour to spare? I can pay in coin. Or I have some spare needles if your wife has need."

The farmer relaxed, no longer looking at them with veiled suspicion. "I believe we have some flour and a little cheese. Let us consult my wife and we will see what we can spare."

As the man turned to lead them toward the farmhouse, Kili shot Bilbo an approving smile. She patted his arm, pleased. He wasn't the only one who could pretend to be something he wasn't.

.

"The language of Dwarves, it's meant to be secret, right?" Bilbo asked one evening as she sat with Ori and Dori near the campfire.

Dori looked fairly affronted. "Meant to be secret?"

Ori's lips quirked as Bilbo hastened to defend herself, "Well, it's not as though you lot are very subtle, is it? Bifur uses it all the time. And just the other day, Kili kept asking me the word for 'that thing you put water in' and then spent five minutes muttering in your language. Apparently he had forgotten the Westron word for kettle!"

Behind Bilbo, there was a squawk and then a burst of laughter. Bilbo turned to find Kili glaring at her with mock outrage while Fili laughed at his brother's expense. She shook her head at them and turned back to Dori and Ori.

"So yes," she said with a wry smile, "I'm well aware of your 'secret' language. But I wouldn't be allowed to learn it, would I?"

"No," answered Ori, tapping the feather of his quill against his notebook. "No outsider has ever learned our language."

Bilbo had expected that answer, so she promptly dismissed any disappointment and asked, "What about the hand language? The one that Bifur uses?"

Ori and Dori exchanged considering looks.

"There's no rule against it," said Ori. "No precedent has been set."

"That would be something to ask Thorin or Bal-"

Dori cut off suddenly as a howl rang out in the night.

Bilbo tensed immediately, her heart galloping in her chest. "Are there wolves here?" she asked feebly.

A screech followed on the tail end of the howl.

Bilbo stood, eyes wide with fear. Her hand flew to the knife Fili had loaned to her. "What was that?"

"Orcs," said Kili from behind her.

Bilbo whirled around to look at him as Fili elaborated unhelpfully, "And wargs. They're like wolves, but larger and fiercer. The orcs, they're throatcutters. There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them."

"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood."

Bilbo sat down again, feeling rather faint. In her mind's eye she could see blood. So much blood. On the snow, on her hands, her dress. No screams, just the ragged sobs that escaped Bilbo's own chest.

Faintly, she registered Fili and Kili laughing together at her expense.

Thorin stood, and both boys quickly fell silent. "You think that's funny? You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

"We didn't mean anything by it," said Kili, an apology in his voice.

Bilbo tried her best to shake herself from her memories, focusing instead on Thorin's fierce disappointment. She watched the way it caused Kili's shoulders to slump and Fili's to pull back and straighten.

It did her no good to focus on the past, she knew that.

"You know nothing of the world."

Kili's face fell as Thorin stalked away.

"Don't mind him, laddie," said Balin.

Bilbo wished to understand the Dwarves better (and she was sure she would get no sleep if left to her own thoughts) so she listened attentively to the tale of monumental loss and paltry victory that followed. The sorrow she felt for the Dwarves and for Thorin especially occupied her mind for the rest of the evening. Judging by the uncharacteristic quiet that reigned until the Dwarves began to snore, she wasn't the only one.

As she laid in her bed roll that night, it occurred to Bilbo quite suddenly that she had not given the quest any thought beyond the possibility it had presented to her. To her, this quest had been her chance at freedom, her opportunity to run away from the things she didn't understand. She had not spared even a moment's thought to what the quest meant to these Dwarves, not at the beginning and not even after she had come to consider them friends. By the Valar, what a poor excuse for a Hobbit she was! Bilbo didn't think she'd ever met anyone more self-centered than she was being.

This journey was about the Dwarves taking back their rightful home that had been stolen from them. If they succeeded, the Dwarves would have a place to call their own again, so that they would not be forced to wander the cruel and unforgiving wilds in search of food and home. It would mean there would be no more battles like the one Balin had described, where so many lives were lost. It would mean the Dwarves could feel safe again and bask in the comforts of home, the same comforts so many others took for granted. The same comforts she had once taken for granted.

This quest wasn't about her, Bilbo knew. And she felt terrible that she had ever made it so.

Bilbo fell into a restless sleep, Fredegar's words echoing in her ears.

You always think about only yourself, don't you, Bilbo?