The Full Tankard was crowded.
A group of fifteen elves, remembering the good food and drink of the inn from before the War had come to stay at for a few nights. As was usual whenever groups of elves visited, many humans had flocked to the inn so that they could eat, drink, and be merry with the fair folk. And eating and drinking they were: Galiene had to pull Demelza from serving to help her and Gawen cook while Wenna, Baylee, and Warren hurried about, delivering food and refilling drinks. And standing at the sink was Demelza's husband, Richard, who was washing dishes as fast as he could.
"I'm sorry, Galiene, but we need another three bowls o' stew an' a platter o' roasted vegetables." On her way over to the piles of stacked loaves of bread and rolls near the oven, Baylee grabbed a cloth-lined basket. She then grabbed a large handful of the rolls, hurriedly putting them into the basket. Seeing that it wasn't nearly enough, she added a second and third handful.
"I forgot just how much food a group o' elves can eat!" Galiene groaned as she grabbed three bowls to fill. Despite how much work she and the others had to do, the music and laughter outside the kitchen was nice to hear—it had been a while since such a gathering had taken place.
"Twice as much as a group o' men an' nearly as much as a group o' dwarves," Demelza laughed from her cooking station. "Gawen, lad, how're those onions coming along?" Holding onto a pan's handle with her apron, she gave it a shake and then a small flick, sending its contents into the air only to catch them again.
"Nearly done! Just one left!" the lad called, his eyes not leaving the large onion he was chopping. "Half goes to Galiene and the other to you, aye?"
"Aye, lad! Then we'll need those potatoes peeled an' cubed."
Wenna came hurrying into the kitchen, her cheeks red and some of her raven curls sticking to her forehead and cheeks. "It's crazy out there," she panted, needing to lean against the counter for a moment. "I don't recall the inn ever being this full!"
"That's because you've only been here a few months," Baylee chuckled. Opening the knife drawer, she pulled out the cheese knife and made her way to the pantry. "Just wait until summer!" she called. "Then you'll know true chaos!"
Groaning, Wenna used her hand to fan herself. "I need an order o' chips, a plate o' cooked vegetables, an' a block of cheese," she told the cooks. "It's for Abbot an' Bill. They say take your time, they can wait."
"Oh, blessings upon those dears—take them some fruit bread an' the cheese at least," Demelza told her. "Tell them the bread's a reward for patience."
"Aye, I'll do that."
Baylee emerged from the pantry, three large chunks of cheese in her arms. "Wenna, catch," she called, tossing one of the blocks across the kitchen.
Wenna let out a small curse as she was just able to catch it. "Give me a bit more warning next time, 'Lee!" she told her.
"Sorry—thought it'd be quicker," she replied with a cheeky grin. "It's what the dwarves do when they're cookin', at least."
"Baylee, order's up," Galiene called.
Setting the two remaining blocks of cheese on the same tray as the bread basket, Baylee lifted it up and took it over to Galiene, who added the platter of vegetables to it. She had already set the three bowls of stew on a second platter, which Baylee also lifted. Both trays she balanced on her palms as she left the kitchen.
Weaving her way around the tables and half-intoxicated patrons, she was finally able to deliver the meals to a group of young women (a couple of them being Primrose's sisters) who were sitting right next to the table of elves. Their cheeks were pink as they giggled flirtatiously as a few of the male elves spoke with them. As Baylee put the bowls of stew, the cheese, and the bread basket down, she felt a hand on her shoulder.
Turning, she saw a redhaired elf woman smiling apologetically at her; upon her brow sat a circlet that was most certainly not of elven design. Rather, it was quite obviously dwarven. "Lady Baylee, I do apologize, but I'm in need of a refill," she said, having to raise her voice to be heard over the music. She held up an empty wine chalice.
Baylee smiled, taking the cup from her. "Not a problem," she assured her. "I'll have it t' ya in just a minute!" Tucking the platters under her arm, she wormed her way back through the crowd to the bar.
She was in the middle of refilling the goblet when she happened to look over at the door only to find it opening. She swallowed a bit hard; they didn't have much room for any more customers, nor did they have enough staff to tend to many more patrons. Normally, they would have this volume of patrons during the summer, when they also had more hired help.
To her relief, however, it was Will, Bofur, and Bifur who entered. All three were covered in bits of dust and wood shavings, but they wore victorious smiles.
Spotting his sister, Will headed over to her. "Well, well, looks like there's a bit o' a party going on!"
"Aye, an' it's been goin' for nearly two hours now," she replied with a breathless laugh.
"What's the occasion?" Bofur had followed Will over while Bifur went to go find Nori and Dori.
"Elves," she replied. "They're here to celebrate—something. I'm not sure, to be honest." Turning, she was met by the sight of Warren and Wenna approaching her; each had a tray of mugs. "…Drinks for the elves?"
"Aye, an' there's a few more comin'—the whole table was out," Warren told her. He smiled over at his son and Bofur, barely batting an eye as Baylee took both trays and Wenna hurried off to get the rest of the cups. "You two look like you've had a good day o' hard work!"
"We brought down the roof o' the balcony," Bofur grinned. He watched as Baylee stood on her tiptoes to fill one of the mugs; he wondered what it contained. "An' started work on bringing down a couple o' walls."
Warren laughed. "That does sound like a good day's work," he grinned. Seeing someone waving him down, he excused him.
"Beer or ale?" Will asked, reaching under the bar and grabbing two tankards.
"Ah, gimmie a good ol' beer, please," he grinned. "Does one o' the elves happen t' be wearing a dwarven circlet, lass?"
Baylee glanced over at him, her brow rising slightly. "Aye. Do ya know her?"
"Aye, I do! Not well, though, but well enough t' call her an acquaintance," he laughed. "She's Tauriel, the bride o' Prince Kili! She must be here t' celebrate the upcoming nuptials. Evidently, it's some sort of elven tradition t' celebrate about four months ahead o' the actual wedding date."
"I was going to say, I thought their wedding was happening in the summer," Will chuckled. He handed Bofur a full tankard of beer before filling the other two with ale; Bifur had mentioned how he wanted ale on their walk home.
Baylee laughed. "Well, it certainly explains why they're drinkin' so much tonight!" She pouted ever so slightly as Will reached down, tousling her hair.
"Don't work yourself too hard, 'Lee," he told her. "After I have a drink, I'll try an' help out."
Glancing up at him, she grinned. "You better. Even Uncle Richard is in the kitchen helpin'." As he walked off to take the ale to Bifur, she shook her head. "So ya know the future princess o' Erebor?"
He nodded slightly as he took a drink of his beer, some foam clinging to his mustache. "Aye, me, Bifur, an' the Ri brothers all know her—all o' the company knows her, actually."
She gave him a curious look as she set one tankard down and grabbed another. "Company?" Once again, she stood on her tiptoes.
"Oh, aye. We all were part o' the Company o' Thorin Oakenshield," he explained. He didn't seem to mind the shocked look she was gave him. "Thirteen o' us there are. Well, fourteen includin' Mr. Baggins, our burglar, but he wasn't a dwarf. Nope. He was a hobbit." A fond, reminiscent smile came to his lips as he remembered the smallest member of their troupe.
Baylee watched him for a moment as he spaced out. "I never expected t' be servin' some of Thorin's companions," she said at last. Peering into the tankard, she found it almost full and started to stem the flow of mead into it.
"Hm?" He shook his head as he was drawn from his thoughts, braids and mustache bouncing slightly. "Why's that, lass?"
"Well, I always thought you lot were high ranking nobles an' knights or somethin'," she admitted, her cheeks turning a bit pink with embarrassment. Yet again, she switched out the full mug for an empty wine goblet. "After all, no one ever imagines ordinary folk being able t' reclaim entire kingdoms."
He smiled at her and chuckled. "But it's those folk who make the best stories, isn't it?" He took another drink of his beer.
She wasn't sure why, but her cheeks grew a bit warmer when he smiled. "Aye, I suppose that's true," she agreed with a small laugh.
His smile turned a bit cheeky. "Though, t' be fair, I am kind of a high rankin' noble now," he half-joked. "Not that I look or act the part. Bifur, me, and my brother all came from quite humble beginnings." He watched as another drinking vessel was switched out and he frowned slightly as he realized that she wasn't just randomly filling them. "…Do you remember what drink each mug gets?" he then asked.
"Aye, I do," she replied. Kneeling down, she filled the last tankard with cider.
"But how? All the mugs look the same, as do the goblets."
"Oh, they all have their differences. Like this tankard has a large scratch along the bottom while another has a dent in the handle…" Standing up, she started to arrange the drinks on the platters. "My memory is strange; from what I've learned, when most people think, it's just words an' vague pictures. But my memory is very clear pictures an', in some cases, entire scenarios. While it's good for waitressin', it's a burden in other aspects o' life."
He nodded slowly, an intrigued expression on his face as he absorbed the information. "I suppose that makes sense," he said. Then, seeing her frown, his brows furrowed. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head before pulling back her hair. "Nothing's wrong. Just wasn't anticipating on havin' to do this tonight." Quickly weaving her hair into a braid, she twisted it around the top of her head like a crown. Then, reaching into her apron pocket, she brought out a hair stick, which she then wove through her hair to hold it in place.
"An' just what is this 'this' you're talkin' abo—" His eyes widened as she picked up one of the trays and placed it atop her head. "Oooh, that's what you mean…Isn't that a wee bit dangerous, lass?"
"I've done it plenty o' times," she assured him. Despite her words, there was a look of concentration on her face as she gathered up the other two trays and balanced them on her palms. Before Bofur had the chance to offer taking one of the trays, she walked out from behind the bar and headed towards the crowd.
Clutching his beer, Bofur watched her for a few seconds. From where he stood, he could see where the table of elves was, but what he couldn't see was a clear path between the bar and the table. Shaking his head, he hurried after Baylee and quickly overtook her due to the caution she was taking with her steps.
"Oi, scooch it, lads! Lady with lots o' drinks comin' through," he called out, lightly pushing a way through the crowd for her. "C'mon, you don't need that much leg room. Out o' the way!"
Baylee blinked, more than a little surprised when Bofur appeared in front of her. When she saw that he was making her a path, however, she smiled in relief. She had woven her way through thick, unpredictable crowds like this before, but they had always been nerve-wracking experiences filled with near-misses. To have a relatively open path was a most-welcomed change.
When they reached the table, the elves gave her a hearty cheer for her successful trip. One of them removed the platter from atop her head while she set the other two on the table top. As she returned all the goblets and tankards to their owners, some of the elves gave her friendly pats on the back and offered her congratulations. Once everyone had their drinks once more, she then asked if they needed more food. More relief filled her when they assured her they had everything they needed.
Gathering up the empty trays, she turned to find that Bofur had wandered off—she couldn't blame him. From where she stood, though, she could see that he had gone over to the dwarves' table, which she had begun referring to as 'the lads' table'. With her trays in hand, she went over to the table. She saw that Will was gone, leaving her hopeful that there would be a little less chaos since he had offered to help.
"That was some stunt you just pulled there, lass," Nori chuckled. "I don't think I've ever seen a human balancing somethin' on their head like that before."
She laughed. "It's something my mum taught me to do when I was little—well, littler. It's come in handy over the years, though this was the first time I had someone clearin' a path for me." She looked at Bofur, offering him a thankful smile. "Thank you, by the way, for doin' that."
He shrugged slightly, a bit of a cheeky grin on his lips. "Couldn't risk lettin' you spill so much good drink," he told her.
"Still. I really appreciate it," she told him. "Do any o' you lads need anything? More drink, more stew…?"
Bifur shook his head. "No, no need t' worry about us, lass. Your brother's gone off to get some food for us."
"However, if you see Ori," Dori spoke up, "you may want t' warn him that he's in for one big scolding when he gets back?" Though he wore a smile and laughed at his words, Baylee could tell that he was nervous about Ori's whereabouts.
"I'll do my best to remember," she replied, a small chuckle leaving her mouth. "Give a holler if you lads need anything, alright? We might be able t' hear it over all this racket." Heading off, she was more than a little surprised that no one tried to stop her as she made her way to the kitchen.
As she stepped into the kitchen, she could see Will ladling stew into four bowls. She placed one of the empty trays next to him before setting the others on the counter. Looking around, she saw her uncle still at the sink and Gawen stirring the contents of a frying pan. Galiene and Demelza, though, were nowhere to be seen.
"Where—"
"Outside, getting some fresh air, along with Wenna," Gawen replied before she could finish. "It's finally startin' to quiet down, so they're takin' the opportunity to have a moment of peace."
"Aye, and you may want t' go take a breather yourself, love," Richard told her. Setting a clean bowl atop a stack of already-cleaned bowls, he turned around. Leaning against the sink, he sighed heavily. "There's no tellin' when that crowd's going to get their second wind. And from what your brother said, you already had t' pull your balancing stunt once tonight."
At that, Gawen glanced over his shoulder at her. "Balancing stunt?" he repeated, confused. "What's he talkin' about?"
Using the top of her apron to wipe some sweat from her face, she sighed. "I can balance a tray atop my head," she explained, "though, I tend t' only do it on nights that are really busy, like tonight. Normally, it's a bit dangerous, considering how unpredictable a room full o' half-drunken patrons is, but tonight I actually had some help gettin' a clear path." She climbed onto the counter, grabbing one of the small, wooden cups normally used only by her family and the staff.
Richard let out a small laugh and crossed his arms. "Did ya now? How did that happen?"
"Bofur walked ahead o' her and made people get out o' the way," Will answered for his sister, his tone amused. "'Lee, can you toss me two loaves of bread?" He caught the bread as she chucked it across the room to him before putting it on the tray. Picking it up, he left the kitchen.
"That was awfully nice o' him," Richard commented. "Then again, he and his fellow dwarves are quite nice lads. Quite polite for dwarves, too…"
Baylee snorted. "You say that as if every dwarf you've met has been rude, uncle." Sliding off the counter, she made her way to the back door.
"No, no, definitely not every dwarf—Lovisa's extremely polite, after all. But there have been a few dwarves I've met that weren't…exactly nice." He shook his head. "Never mind that, though. Go have yourself a small break while things are still quiet."
Smiling, she nodded and headed out the door, still holding the cup. Once outside, it took her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the lack of light, but she was soon able to see Wenna, Galiene, and Demelza sitting on the edge of the well. She headed over to them, intent on both getting a drink of water and to join in with any potential gossip.
"I wonder how long they'll be here for?" Demelza questioned.
Galiene shook her head and leaned back against the support for the well's crank system. "No idea, but something tells me it's going to be for more than just a single night."
"I sure hope it's for more than a night." Wenna let out a dreamy sigh. "Those elf men sure are handsome."
"Now don't you go startin' to daydream, Wenna," Baylee chuckled, startling the three women. "The last thing we need is for you t' start getting flirty with them."
Wenna pouted. "Oh, come off it—ya know I wouldn't flirt with customers. At least, not while I'm workin'." At that, the other women cracked up. "What? It's true!"
"Aye, we know, lass," Demelza assured her, still chuckling. "You've actually been a very big help tonight, all things considerin'. You an' Baylee certainly do a much better job than Warren."
Baylee giggled, starting to turn the crank to pull up some water. "Papa's not too bad when it comes t' hosting, but he's definitely better behind the bar, filling drinks." Once the bucket was within reach, she leaned over and simply dunked her cup into it. A small shiver ran down her spine as she felt her hand engulfed by the icy water. Raising the cup to her lips, another shiver went through her body as the water slid down her throat.
Galiene nodded in agreement. "Aye, I'll agree to that," she chuckled. "But only because he ends up talkin' with the customers for too long an' forgets what their order is when he finally makes it back t' the kitchen!"
Wenna quietly giggled. "You would think he'd know better by now."
"Papa's always been like that, though," Baylee chuckled. "Even when we had the Tankard down in Laketown, he'd constantly be stopping t' chitchat with folk. Which is why he was normally left t' bar duty—he can talk an' fill drinks at the same time. With taking food orders, though…" She shook her head and refilled her cup.
"Oh, he's been extra bad with it lately," Demelza told her. "You don't know how many times I've had to scold him for lollygagging about because he keeps stopping t' talk with those dwarves. I can only imagine tonight's it's going to be even worse if he starts talking with the elves—especially if they get him talkin' in elvish with them."
At that, Wenna cocked her head. "Mr. Braddock can speak elvish?"
"Both Sindarin an' Quenya," Baylee replied. She squinted slightly; she thought she could see some movement coming from near the courtyard's archway.
"There's more than one elvish language?"
"O' course there is, lass, just like there's more than one type of elf," Demelza chuckled. "Practically every realm in Middle Earth has its own language—you should know that, being that you know Esgarothian in addition to Westron."
"'Esgarothian?'" Galiene laughed. "That's the first time I've heard our language called that. I may have t' start usin' that, Demelza."
Demelza frowned. "Well then, what do you call it?"
"We've always just called it the language o' Laketown."
As the women continued to discuss the various languages of Middle Earth, Baylee set her cup down and started to walk towards the archway. Though the voices of the women started to fade, she started to hear a new set of voices. Partially hiding herself behind the archway, she peered around the corner, where, through the dim light, she saw three men huddled around something.
"What's this, then, eh?" The tallest of them stepped forward and grabbed at something. She recognized his voice: Frederick Potts, a hooligan that liked to loiter around the inns at night in hopes of robbing a few coins.
"W-will you just go away!? I have nothing of value!" Baylee's eyes narrowed; that was most definitely Ori's voice.
"Then why you holdin' that thing so close, huh?" Another man stepped forward, this one she knew to be Bartholomew Twains, Frederick's long-time accomplice. The third man she didn't recognize, but that didn't matter—he was up to no good as well.
Being as quiet as she could, she made her way over to the door of the inn, hoping that she would find the broom leaning against the wall. Getting closer, she found that it was still there and sighed in relief. 'For once, Wenna, thank you for not doing as I asked,' she thought as she grabbed it.
Still being quiet, she turned the broom over so that she gripped it near the bristles. Slowly, she came up behind the three men.
"If you really want us t' go away, then give us some coin," Bartholomew snickered.
"I told you, I don't have any coin!" Ori snapped.
"Then you'll just have t' suffer the punishment, now won't ya?" Frederick said, his tone threatening. He closed his hand into a fist and drew back his arm.
Slipping the broom handle into the crook of his arm, Baylee yanked him backwards. As he cried out and fell backwards, she swung the broom handle at Bartholomew. It struck him across the face with enough force that he was sent stumbling backwards.
Before the third man could run away, Ori quickly shoved his foot out. Not seeing it in the dark, the man tripped over him, falling flat on his face.
"This is the last time you three harass one o' our customers!" Baylee snapped, loud enough that she knew her aunt and the others heard her. As Frederick tried to get up, she stepped on his chest, forcing him back down. "You're not goin' anywhere, Frederick Potts. Neither are you, Bartholomew Twain!" Keeping her weight (which, truthfully, wasn't very much) planted on Frederick's chest, she used the broom to sweep Bartholomew's legs out from under him. "Ori, be a dear an' grab that one, please."
Nodding, he reached down and snatched the man by the back of his shirt before he could crawl away. Just as he did, Demelza, Galiene, and Wenna came hurrying out of the courtyard.
"What's going on here?!" Demelza growled. Seeing the three men on the ground, she swore under her breath. "You again, Potts and Twain?" Walking over, she grabbed the back of Bartholomew's shirt and yanked him to his feet.
"Looks like they've got Jarek Fletcher helpin' them out now, too," Wenna grumbled. "Good thing there's some city guardsmen in the inn tonight. We can finally get these twits behind bars for a while."
"We wasn't doin' nothin'!" Frederick snapped, trying to wriggle free as Baylee pulled him to his feet by the neck of his shirt. Wenna walked over, grabbing the back of his tunic and relieving her of the burden.
"Says the one who was getting ready to hit me because I wasn't going to give you my coin," Ori frowned. He looked up as Galiene came over and grabbed Jarek by the ear.
"You said you didn't have coin!" Bartholomew growled.
"Shut it, you idiot!" Jarek snapped.
"It's too late, you three idiots," Demelza snapped. None-too gently, she started to drag Bartholomew towards the inn, Galiene and Wenna following behind with the other two.
Baylee turned to Ori, guilt on her face. "I'm so sorry about that, Ori," she told him. "They didn't hurt ya, did they?"
"N-No, I'm fine," he replied, one hand clutching his sketchbook to his chest. He felt rather silly for not dealing with the three men on his own; he knew he could have easily over taken them. "Thank you, by the way…For helping me out. I guess I'm more used to facin' down orcs rather than humans."
She gave him an understanding smile. "Aye, orcs make it fairly easy to hit them, don't they? Bein' that they're so mean lookin' and ugly."
He tilted his head slightly. "…You've…fought orcs?"
"Aye, I have," she said with a small nod. She could just barely see his eyes widened in shock. "Just once, though, an' that was enough for me."
"I-I thought you may have known how to fight," he admitted. "The day your brother came back, you were holdin' your serving tray like a shield and you stood in the right position to defend yourself with a sword or axe."
She rubbed the back of her neck, chuckling. "A good portion o' my family is made up of former warriors," she explained, "so they made sure Will an' me—an' our cousins—could defend ourselves if ever the need arose. Though, I'm pretty rusty now."
He smiled, a small laugh leaving his mouth. "Could have fooled me. You took down those two pretty skillfully."
At that, she snorted. "Only because they were distracted. Otherwise, there's no way I would have been able t' take them—with a broom, at least." Looking over her shoulder at the inn, she set the broom over her shoulder as if it were a sword. "Well, shall we head inside? It's a bit chaotic in there, I'm afraid. A party o' elves came in from Mirkwood today an' whenever there's elves, there are people wanting to see an' flirt with them." She looked back at him, a smile on her lips. "Apparently, you know one o' them."
He frowned. "I don't know any—" A look of realization quickly came to his face and he laughed. "Oh, you mean Tauriel!" He moved to start walking towards the door.
"Aye. Apparently, she's here celebrating her upcoming weddin' to Prince Kili. Or, at least, that's what Bofur told me." She turned and walked alongside him, brushing some hair from her face.
As they neared the door, it suddenly flung open. A pair of men came out, dragging the three would-be thieves alongside them. The men were shouting and struggling, but they weren't able to escape the firm grips of the men.
"Evenin', Miss Braddock," one of the men said. "Just takin' the filth out for ya."
"Thank you, Thomas," she smiled. "An' thank you, too, Henrik. I'm sorry your meals got interrupted."
"It's fine! Especially since it means finally gettin' these three off the streets!"
Ori glanced up at her. "You seem to know a lot of people."
"Well, when you run an inn, a lot o' people come to drink an' eat at your establishment," she replied with a small laugh. "But I only know 'bout a quarter of the people who live in Dale now. The rest are new folk who've come in from Dorwinion, Rohan, an' even some from Gondor." Her brow rose; the music inside seemed to have gotten louder.
"Really? That many have moved here?"
"Aye. A good portion o' the Laketown folk wanted to return to the Long Lake and rebuild—can't blame them. Rebuilding from the lakebed up seemed far less daunting than repairing an' rebuilding Dale." She set the broom against the wall before opening the door and stepping inside. Her eyes widened slightly and she let out a hearty laugh.
Ori poked his head under her arm, looking to see what had happened. His eyes widened as well; all the tables and chairs had been shoved off to the sides of the common room, leaving the middle of the room wide open. The musicians had gathered near the fireplace, playing a loud and lively tune as people danced about.
"I wasn't expecting a party when I was coming back," he laughed. If there was a party going on, then there would be a slim chance that Dori would be in the mood for scolding him.
"An' I wasn't expectin' the dancing to happen so soon!" she laughed. "I guess our break was longer than expect—" She suddenly let out a squeak as her arm was grabbed.
Ori laughed as he watched Will run up and pull his sister onto the dance floor, a wide, cheeky grin on his lips.