Once Rhavaniel was sure Kili was asleep, and the room was warmed by the fire, she slipped out from under the covers and gathered all of his clothes and his boots. She made her way back to the entry way and opened the rusty gate to the river. The gate was intricately patterned with dwarf spirals, and had little bells attached, as if the parents wanted a warning that a Dwarfling had even touched them. She thought that this must have been a warm and safe home when occupied.
She could tell where Dwarves had washed their clothes. There was a smoothed pool that they had made, or nature made and they took advantage of. She began to wash Kili's clothes and realized his shirt was torn beyond repair. She could replace the back with material from the softest sack they were carrying, for she had needle and thread in her pack.
Rhavaniel took inventory of their supplies. At least they still had some good arrows. They had leeks, plenty of baked petty-dwarf roots, bilberries, some tea, and a large shank of chamois. She felt around in Kili's pack of Watchtower supplies and discovered a rolled up Elf Guard undershirt. It was too small for Kili, but she gratefully took it so that she could change out of her own dirty clothes. She took a quick plunge in the cold river and used a sack as a towel. She would have to warm water on the stove for Kili to wash up when he woke. He would not be able to tolerate the cold the way she could.
She broke apart more wood bins and starting a fire in the kitchen stove. After a quick wash in the river, the old kettles were suitable for boiling water. She also found pots and pans, and soap which miraculously had not gone rancid over time.
Rhavaniel checked on Kili frequently, and he was sleeping soundly each time. She washed her own clothes, and hung everything to dry in the warm back bedroom with Kili.
She had a large vial of pine nut oil in her own pack that she used for everything from polishing wood to treating her unruly hair. It was perfectly good for cooking, and she used it to cook chunks of chamois, and then added leeks and slices of baked root. She covered the dish and put it on the table, so that it would not be overdone.
She reckoned it must be near dark, and took one last look outside. The sun was setting and the shadow of Lonely Mountain was long. She realized the shadow nearly reached them at this time of dwindling day. They might be close to Kili's rendezvous point with his Uncle and brother! Kili had been vague on the time of day. She would have to ask him about that when he awoke, and give him the exciting news that they might be close.
Once inside for the night, Rhavaniel cut out a piece of cloth for Kili's one shirt and began to sew. Her stitching was sturdy and fast, and she was done quickly. She carried the blue hooded shirt down the hall and also hung it in the room where Kili slept. On her way back to the kitchen, with all possible chores done, she stopped to look in the other rooms.
The pantry had been emptied of all but several large crocks on the bottom shelf.
'Too large to carry.' she surmised. She opened one and was nearly knocked over by the stench of centuries-old pickled something. She was loath to open the rest, but had to try. She was rewarded with a well-sealed crock of honey. The immortal food, honey could last hundreds of years. She grabbed that crock and carried it into the kitchen.
The next bedroom had been stripped near bare, and looked like two small children had shared it based on the twin bed frames. The room had once been painted a cheerful blue with white stars on the ceiling. Broken toys, loose pages of paper, and a few books were abandoned in a corner.
The last bedroom was a girl's, and it looked as though nothing had been removed. A mirror hung on the wall. The dresser had brush, comb, and numerous faded ribbons and colorful pins. The Dwarf girl's dusty, faded clothes hung from hooks. The bedspread had been nearly consumed by rats and moths over the years, but Rhavaniel could make out a pattern of quilted flowers. There was a doll on the bed - a carved wood head, hands and feet that were still attached to a stuffed cloth body. The doll was in better shape that the quilt, but still looked as though it would crumble at Rhavaniel's touch. It seemed to her that the person who lived here was her age - no longer a child but not fully abandoning childhood. Why had none of her things been taken? Had she died in the attack of Smaug? Had she been unable to reach her home before she was swept up in the crush of refugees, and forced to flee with only the clothes on her back? Had she been so confident that she would be back soon that she left everything behind? She'd be an old woman now, if still alive and exiled in Blue Mountain. Did she still dream about this room?
Kili had been angry that Elf history books did not mention the destruction of Erebor. Standing here, Rhavaniel knew that a book could never do justice to the sense of loss, and how terrible it must have been to leave this home with only what they could carry.