Ch.9: Is That What Happens?

The first week or so of the journey passed very merrily and uneventfully.

The May weather was exceptionally fine and their supplies were abundant, and with the relative safety of this stretch of the East road they were able to sing and converse well into the evening and sleep past sunrise in safety (which was well, as dwarves and hobbits both are peoples fond of sleep).

Eily was often among the first to stir, and would do her best to busy herself all morning. At first this puzzled Bilbo, who easily recognized that she drew out simple tasks for the sake of seeming busied. But after a few days he realized she did this to avoid the bustle of the dwarves morning grooming.

For this was one part of dwarf life that she could not take part in.

Outsiders often think that dwarves are an unselfconscious, unpolished, or even dirty sort of people (this is probably due in no small portion to their unconventional table manners).

Nevertheless, Bilbo learned quickly (and would often remark in later years) that this was a very flawed assessment. Dwarves may have been a people of practicality, traveling in well-made but often inelegant garb compared to other races; but in the comfort of their own halls and hearths they happily adorned themselves in fine clothes and coordinating accouterments when they could afford it.

However, in all but the most urgent circumstances even the poorest and most inelegant dwarf took exceptional care in their personal grooming.

So every morning the company rose to attend to their beards and braids.

A dwarf's beard (the same as any human's head of hair) is unique; each comprised of differing textures, colors, densities, and grew to differing lengths.

Some dwarves (like Bifur, Gloin, and Balin) chose to allow their beard to grow to its longest possible length, and so hardly had to trim it but to keep the ends healthy. Others (like Bombur and Bofur) chose to shear off entire stretches of beard and so had to shave once (even twice) daily for their beards to keep shape. And of course there was all manner of braiding, trimming, and combing in between the two extremes that took place. Sometimes the beard was used to convey certain significance to the wearer: Dwalin had not braided his beard since the death of his wife some decades ago, and Thorin was careful to keep his beard even and trimmed, saying he would allow it to grow again when his throne had been restored to him.

At first it had seemed funny to watch the dwarves rise and labor over their beards (especially for a hobbit for whom beards were a foreign oddity), but after a few days Bilbo grew used to it. And upon the discovery that Eily was feeling self-conscious about her inability to take part he began to rise as promptly as he could each morning to help her pack and keep her occupied.

Typically this involved a mutual fussing over the ponies; petting them, feeding them treats, and collecting flowers and grass to give them later in the day.

For while neither were experienced (or even passably good) riders both had a certain soft spot for animals, especially for Petunia, the oldest and most broken in of the trail ponies. She was so docile that the dwarves trusted her to simply follow the most youthful ponies at the end of the column without even being tied or otherwise led. It was Petunia who had carried Eily from East of Bree to Bywater, following calmly behind Gandalf's horse and making it possible for Eily to ride without worry or effort (for she truly had no knack for it whatsoever), and who now carried the majority of the food and excess supplies.

On the morning of the twenty-first the dwarves took longer than usual to stir, as they had stayed up late hunting in the nearby brush for early summer strawberries, all of which they ate up happily over dinner, the merriment and song going into the night.

"Tell Oin to stop bothering with that patch, we're quite ready to move out," Gandalf huffed as he mounted his horse.

"Oin! Quit fiddlin' in the damn shrubs and let's go!" Gloin hollered from the back of his pony.

Oin was still hunched over, shuffling contentedly in the brush near where they had camped. He seemed convinced that he could locate more wild strawberries in the underbrush (as they had picked the exposed patches completely clean the night before).

Of course Oin was not making use of his trumpet as he did this, so he could hear none of the other dwarves or their protests from the back of their ponies.

Bilbo rolled his eyes and shifted in the saddle; those dwarves would sit here and yell at Oin's back until the sun set and Oin still wouldn't hear them, "I'll get him," he declared.

"Good going Mr. Bilbo!" Bofur chimed as Bilbo slid from his saddle and padded over to Oin.

"Oin? Oin?"

Bilbo prodded the dwarf gently on the shoulder.

Without skipping a beat Oin turned to face him with a wide smile on his face, pulling the trumpet from his belt and holding it dutifully to his ear,

"Why good morning Mr. Bilbo! Would you like a strawberry?"

Oin held out the open bag he'd been using to collect the berries in. For a moment Bilbo was impressed, Oin had gathered a rather generous amount of the ripened fruit, the small drawstring bag was well near full.

Bilbo had to twist up his face a little to avoid smiling,

"No I'm fine thank you, well, maybe just one."

He took the bag from Oin and nabbed a couple berries from the top, popping them into his mouth.

"Oh those are very good," he said, savoring the tangy sweetness.

These berries that had been concealed under the brush had been mainly left alone by passing animals and had grown much larger and sweeter than the ones they'd picked last night.

Oin had already turned away and continued pushing branches and tall grasses about in search of more.

"Well," Bilbo considered the possibility of making his mother's famous summer berry sauce to garnish a roasted chicken (though where he expected they'd come across a roasted chicken he could not tell you to this day), "maybe we've a few moments…"

"Bilbo!" Eily called to him from the road.

Bilbo sighed: she was right.

He tapped Oin again and spoke clearly into the trumpet, "Oin, the others are ready, we should set off."

Oin nodded agreeably and tottered over to his luggage.

Bilbo nodded satisfactory and rotated back to the trail.

Bilbo's eyes bulged quizzically as he turned to see only two ponies standing on the path.

"They said we could just catch up," Eily shrugged helplessly from atop Myrtle's back.

Bilbo's sweet round face began to resemble the red of the berries as he stomped his wide foot in the dirt, tight sandy curls flying about his head like an agitated halo,

"After all the time we've spent waiting on them and their primping and braiding?! Why of all the… discourteous… DWARVES!"

Oin did not seem so irritated, simply loading his pony and climbing up, "C'mon Mr. Bilbo! The road awaits!"

"I was the one doing all the awaiting!" he snapped, his tantrum not quite over, index finger brandished and slashing the air.

Eily let out the breath she'd been holding as Bilbo stormed back over to her, composing himself, but slowly.

"Could you please hold this?" Bilbo asked, handing her a small drawstring sack.

She nodded and tied it to her belt as he climbed up onto Myrtle's back, nudging her along with some tension in his legs.

After a few moments everything seemed to be back to normal. Oin was humming to himself ahead of them and Bilbo finally began to speak more cheerily (mainly about some kind of garnish sauce).

Then it began to rain: a cold rain that came down hard, the wind sweeping it so it came in sheets and at an angle, soaking them through and making the ground muddy.

It wasn't until near dusk that they caught up to the company (though they had had them in sight most of the day, apparently they could not be bothered with waiting on their three missing members). By this time all the ponies were exhausted from trudging through the mud and every member of the party was chilled to the bone and very bad-tempered.

To the right of the road the river had rose a great deal. Normally the embankment would have been long and grassy, the river deep but mostly clear and manageable; now it was a short slick drop into rushing water, deep brown from the churned up dirt, carrying fallen bits of debris from the forest.

A few wanted to stop to wait out the storm (for that was what it was now, not some summer shower) but there was no place to take cover from it and Thorin's mood had soured with the weather,

"No, we continue on," he half snarled as everyone stared miserably at his back.

Even Gandalf's expression was black, for his old tobey was surely soaked through and would not be fit for smoking again for a long while.

"Thorin!" Eily called up through the downpour, "We need to stop Petunia is falling behind!"

Eily looked over her shoulder again at poor Petunia, who was barely within sight of the rest and struggling her way through the thick, churned up mud.

"The ponies will be fine, we keep moving!" Thorin called back, thinking this more an excuse by her to stop and seek shelter than an actual plea for the animal's sake.

Eily's face soured, "Bilbo stop, I'm going to get Petunia."

Bilbo agreed and promptly pulled Myrtle off to the side as a few of the company passed by.

She hopped off of Myrtle into the thick muck and pulled her cloak tightly about her, barely able to pull her feet from the sludge without losing her boots to the suction.

"And just what are you doing?" Fili called back to her, irritation apparent in his voice, "What are you going to do? Carry her?"

"I'm just going to coax her a little," Eily snapped defensively, pulling out an apple and holding it out to Petunia who had practically stopped walking entirely.

"Come here girl! Look what I have!" Eily chimed in a strained upbeat voice, brandishing the apple to and fro.

Petunia stared at the girl miserably, looking old and exhausted.

The rest of the dwarves felt for the animal, but the cold rain sapped them of much of their patience and sympathy.

"Once she realizes she's fallen far enough behind she'll pick up the pace. Now get back on your pony," Balin said, fatherly but plainly exasperated, urging his mount forward.

"Come on lad," Balin said stiffly to Kili, who looked as though he was going to join in the foolishness.

Kili frowned deeply but was resigned to Balin's tone, he was tired and freezing and the older dwarf was probably right anyway.

Now only Bilbo, the curious Oin (who had been desperately trying to discern the conversation through the sound of the pouring rain and the rushing river), and the openly vexed Fili remained waiting as the rest of the group trudged ahead.

"Just give her a moment!" Eily yelled stubbornly at the despondent company, turning back to the old pony with a fake smile and spitting the rain water out of her mouth as it poured across her face, "Come here Petunia!"

Her tone was dripping with a false cheer that quickly became pleading, "Come on girl! Please come on please girl!"

Fili was rolling his eyes and chewing on the inside of his cheek, "This is ridiculous."

He jumped off his pony and into the heavy freezing cold filth which splashed up his tunic and ran into his boots. He snarled as he fought the drag on his feet.

"Come on," he demanded, grabbing Eily by the arm, "We don't have time for this, she'll catch up."

"And what if she doesn't?" Eily snarled, turning on Fili with a rage none of them had seen let alone experienced thus far,

"You're just going to leave her? Is that what happens to the things that don't fit in? That aren't fit enough anymore?"

Fili tried to swallow back that bitter dose of words, his eyes turning back over to the peculiar Mr. Bilbo and the old, practically deaf Oin.

Then back to her, the beardless dwarf.

All of whom they had simply left alone on the road this very morning, because surely 'they would catch up.'

"That isn't the same," he said weakly.

Inside she knew that it wasn't, and inside he knew that it was.

"Never mind," she hissed, pulling her arm from him and taking a few steps forward, squatting down into the slop, "Come here girl," she said, this time with calm defeat.

Slowly, but with gaining speed, Petunia approached.

Fili could not restrain his smile even though his cloak was sticking to his body and he could only barely feel his toes and fingers from the cold, "stubborn thing," he said with admiration in his voice.

As Petunia reached her Eily stood and held the apple out for her to eat, "No. Just strong. Right old girl?" Eily beamed, petting the old creature's neck.

Fili was about to say he didn't mean the pony when the ground began to crumble.

Kili was half way up the line when he heard the panicked screech of the pony. He jerked his mount around and pushed his pony as fast as it could manage as he saw the earth under Petunia's hooves give way. The pony jerked and cried out, causing her to go into a roll as she was sucked down into the roaring river, dragging Eily down the bank with her.

Eily was holding onto Petunia's bridle when she fell, and the suddenness of it made her clutch the band of leather harder, pulling her entire body down the bank with it. She could find no hold with her feet on the slick mud, everything simply gave way under her, and only in the last instant did she manage to take hold of the huge exposed root of a willow tree. The water was sloshing over her shoulders but she could feel the remains of part of the bank barely under one of her feet.

Petunia was over her head near the center of the river, fighting the current valiantly. Eily refused to let go of the reins even as Petunia began to lose ground against the torrent.

Eily could feel the skin of the root peeling out from under her grip, tearing her blistered hands open.

She could not hold on.

"Swim to me Petunia! Come on girl!"

But the pony was lost in an insane terror, squealing loudly and beating what strength was left in its legs into the river hysterically.

The force of the fighting pony and the current would have washed a human away almost instantly, but Eily rallied every bit of her dwarven strength, gripping the root, planting her foot in the muck and pulling the reigns with a profound and wild Khuzdul scream.

For a moment she believed it would work, the scream seemed to snap enough sense into Petunia that she began to swim into Eily's pulling, working with her instead of against her. It seemed the pony's hooves were beginning to touch unsteady ground on the river bottom.

But that bottom again gave way and Eily lost the ground, the reigns ripped from her fingers, leaving ugly bloody trails on her hand.

Petunia was washed further away screeching, eyes fixed at Eily in a wide eyed deathly stare as she was gripped by the under current and pulled below and away, never to be looked on again.

Only then did the truth become apparent, and Eily began to cry, her chest heaving and sobbing.

Eily was going to die in this place; she would never leave this river.

The root snapped.

She screamed but was silenced by water filling her lungs as it pushed her under, burning the inside of her chest with cold and wracking her body in instinctive gagging and coughing.

"Oooold-NNNn"

The sound was muffled by the sound of her own body convulsing, trying desperately to expel the water from her lungs, she looked up, eyes blurry with dingy river water.

"Hold on," Fili yelled, taking in a throat full of water as he did so. He wasn't sure she was hearing him as her body was wracked again and again with spasms, but her hands suddenly clutched his tunic with a white knuckled control and he was able to dedicate his focus to clutching the slick rotting upturned trunk of some ancient tree that had fallen into the river decades ago and was being uncovered and dredged up by the storm. He could hear the entire company calling out to them, arguing about how they had to keep the ponies back for fear of the edge crumbling down and taking the rescue party with it.

Fili could only register a single syllable before his temple was struck by debris: "Hold."

So he held her.

"Hold on!" Kili screamed, "I'm coming!"

Up on the road and quite a few feet from the steep crumbling bank of the river Kili was snarling in frenzy, "Faster Bifur faster!"

Poor Bifur was equally distraught as he tried to finish the series of water knots that would ensure Kili too would not be lost to the flood as the others tied the rope to Gandalf's saddle horn and took positions to assist in pulling.

Bilbo was climbing up a tree so he could see down the slope to the other side of the river where Fili clung to the putrefying and peeling wood, but by the time he got there their heads were no longer above water, "They've gone under!" he screamed.

Before the series of knots could be finished Kili bounded off and launched himself towards the water as though his flesh had been aflame.

But he could not see them either.

"Where are they?" he screamed, a fear so deep and primal it choked him welling up inside.

Bilbo's eyes frantically combed the river, watching intently downstream but he could not see them, "I-I-can't."

He scurried down the tree, running thoughtlessly past the company to the perilous edge of the raging river, his face blank, muttering soft hysterics, "I can't… no… no…"

From the side Kili charged and struck the stupid, babbling little man to the ground, teeth gnashing and eyes burning viciously.

But the hobbit did not react, just sat slumped over dumbly, blood beading on his split lip.

"You were supposed to be watching!" Kili screamed, raising his fists for a fiercer assault when Dwalin came up swiftly behind him, gripping the young dwarf's wrists in his powerful hands.

Kili struggled wildly, "No! He was supposed to! It was his job!" Kili let out a series of long, guttural, wrenching screams in Khuzdul before sputtering into a series of gasps like he could not breathe. For fear of harming the young prince Dwalin released him as the young dwarfs rage began to break with pitiful guttural sobs,

"You were supposed to-" Kili collapsed to his knees without Dwalin to hold him to his feet and his body turned in on itself. He crippled over in the muck, mouth agape in a soundless, numb scream emphasized by painful hyperventilating gasps. His eyes were screwed tightly shut, palms spread wide into the filth, gripping and releasing it in tight, spasmodic clutches as spittle and tears blended with the rain on his fair face.

"You must look out for one another," their mother pleaded, "you must always have one eye on the road, and the other fixed on your brother. Promise me!"

"Of course Mama," Kili had groaned, shrugging off her concern because he was a full grown dwarf who did not need her advice.

"Keep close Kili, the road can be dangerous, I don't fancy getting separated," Fili said gingerly.

"Yea yea," Kili had snapped, "I'll be fine!"

"We must keep a close watch on her brother, Balin says she's an inexperienced traveler and she is under our families care so long as she's a part of this company," Fili cautioned quietly.

"I won't let anything happen to Eily brother," Kili had boasted.

"You were supposed to-" Kili howled into his filthy hands, "You were supposed to be watching!"