"No. No, no, no! Absolutely not!"

"Why not?! I'm one hundred, Dori! I'm more than old enough t' stay here on my own!" Ori glared at his brother from across the table, a defiant pout on his lips.

"You know next to nothing about the ways of Men, though!" Dori argued. "And Dale is a place where there are all sorts of different cultures mixing; what if you were t' get in trouble because you accidentally offended someone?"

Nori suddenly snorted, drawing the attention of his brothers.

"And just what do you find so funny, Nori?" Dori demanded. He stabbed one of his sausages with his knife and took a bite out of; his chewing was bit harder than normal thanks to frustration.

"The fact that you think Ori o' all dwarrows is going t' offend someone," he replied, moving the stem of his pipe out of his mouth. He lightly shook his head. "I agree with Ori—he's old enough to stay here if he wants to. Mahal's blessing, it'd be good for him to stay here without us. You mother him so much, I'm afraid the lad's going to end up just as awkward as poor old Cousin Yoni."

At his words, Ori scrunched up his nose in distaste and Dori glared at Nori. "I'm not mothering him, Nori," he argued. "Ori's never been out on his own before! The lad hardly remembers to grab his hood before he leaves the mansion, let alone know how to handle himself on the streets of a city of Men!"

Nori blew a ring a smoke at his older brother, making him cough slightly. "And how is he supposed to learn if you don't give him the chance?" Grabbing his cup, he took a drink from the cider within it.

"Exactly," Ori agreed. "You let me come with you on the quest t' reclaim Erebor, so why can't I spend a few measly weeks in a city right at the foot o' the mountain?" He held his biscuit down with his spoon so he could cut a piece off of it before swiping it through some gravy and popping it into his mouth.

"Where will you stay? And how will you pay for those lodgings?" Dori demanded.

"I've already talked it over with Bofur and Bifur. They said I could stay in their room, since they've got three beds," he told him, his tone now somewhat victorious. "As for money, I've barely spent any of the coin I brought with me because I haven't had the chance. I have enough to last me a good while if I'm not overzealous."

Nori chuckled, moving his pipe aside once more so he could take a bite of his porridge. "See? He's already thought out everything ahead o' this. That already shows that he's mature enough t' stay here without us."

Dori grumbled under his breath. "I wish you gave us a bit more warning," he sighed, rubbing his temple as he admitted defeat. "We have meetings almost every day this upcoming week and you're the one with the notes…"

"I already put that notebook into your belongings," Ori told him. "Everything in it is labeled and each business you're working with has their own section. You'll be able to find any and all information you need quite easily."

"Are you sure you have enough coin t' last you as long as you need it?"

Before Ori could answer, a quiet, clucking sound came from Nori; it was identical to that made by a chicken.

"Oh, don't you start that, Nori!" Dori scolded. "I just want to make sure he—"

Nori clucked again, this time the sound a bit louder.

"Will you—"

Ori cracked up as Nori started to cluck louder and louder, sounding very much like a chicken who was in the midst of laying an egg. Tucking his hands against his shoulders, he waved his arms about as if they were wings and started to bob his head. With his rather pointed hair, the effect was rather comical. "Ori! Don't do this! Ori! Don't do that!" he 'squawked'. "Ori, put your hood up!"

Dori rolled his eyes and thwacked him upside the head "Oh, stop it! You're making yourself look like an idiot." Nori was, in fact, drawing some looks from the other patrons—namely, the elves who had spent the night. "I already said he could stay. End of discussion!"

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Bofur sat off to the side with a mug of tea and watched Baylee as she cooked his breakfast. It had been an early morning for him once again, with the sun only just peeking over the horizon when he had come downstairs. After last night, it was a wonder he was awake at all; he was sure he had at least four mugs of ale and one of beer.

Then again, it was a wonder anyone was awake at this time –except the elves. But they were elves—they never really needed rest.

He took a sip of his tea, his head tilted as he watched Baylee disappear into the pantry for a few minutes. When she came out, she had an uncut leg of smoked ham and a large brick of bacon in her arms. The ham was so large, he was sure the pig it had come from had been big enough to ride into battle. It was a wonder a small thing like her could carry it and the pork belly!

"Are you sure you don't want any help, lass?" he questioned as she set both down on the counter.

She gave him a reassuring smile as she brushed some hair from her face. "Aye, I'm sure. But if it'd make you feel better, the gravy could use stirring," she chuckled. Reaching into the knife drawer, she pulled out a cleaver. "Did you enjoy the spur-o'-the-moment party last night, by the way?"

He grinned as he stood up and, after setting his tea down atop the stool, made his way over to the stove. "Aye, I did! Though, I must admit, I hadn't been expectin' one to take place."

"Oh?" She stole a glance at him as she sliced some nice, thick strips of bacon from the pork belly. "Why's that?" Her brow rose slightly as she heard clucking coming from the common room. 'What the…? Who let a chicken into the inn?' she thought.

"I always forget that the elves o' Mirkwood know how to have a good time," he admitted with a laugh. He plucked up the gravy spoon and started to stir the stuff around. "The elves o' Rivendell, though? They're boring. Nice enough, aye, but their music is more likely t' put you to sleep than t' make you want t' get up and dance. And don't even get me started on the food—There was almost no meat! It was all vegetables an' leaves an' breads."

Baylee giggled, her brow rising. "I take it ya stayed in Rivendell while travelin' to Erebor?" she questioned. She then held up four slices of the bacon. "Is this enough or would you like a few more pieces?"

"Oh, aye, that's enough," he smiled. "Since there's goin' t' be ham, too." Truthfully, it would probably be more than enough, but he had the feeling that Nori or Bifur would manage to steal some of it. "And aye, we stayed in Rivendell for nearly two weeks. Thankfully, the provisions they gave us had a lot o' dried and cured meats. Not sure why they hardly fed us any o' it, though…lots o' roasted vegetables an' salads…" Seeing that she had looked back down to cut the ham, he swiped his finger along the back of the spoon, taking a small taste. 'Hm. Think it needs pepper…' he thought to himself.

"Well that's good. A healthy dwarf needs more than just lettuce an' bread to live off of," she giggled.

He continued to stir the gravy, more out of wanting to feel somewhat useful than it actually needing stirred. "So, lass, is that three platter trick o' yours one you do often or only for special occasions?"

Her brow rose and she laughed. "Usually only during the summers, when we've got more patrons. But, ah, admittedly, I mostly do it with light loads—things like salads, breads, an' desserts. Last night was actually the first time I've done it with that many drinks."

As she walked over with the slices of ham and bacon, Bofur could see that her cheeks were a touch on the pink side. "So, what you're sayin' is that," he began, "if I hadn't cleared the path for you, there would have been a strong chance that you would've spilled the drinks everywhere?"

"Oh, most definitely. I've good balance, aye," she giggled, laying the strips of bacon into a second frying pan, "but if I'm having t' carry that much weight atop my head in a room full o' half-drunken patrons, there's no way I would have been able t' stop that tray from falling if someone tripped me up."

A cheeky, teasing grin came to his lips as he looked up at her. "Does that make me a bit o' a hero, then?" he joked.

She laughed again and set the pan on the grate beside the pot of gravy. "I suppose that does," she replied, smiling. Using a small shovel, she shifted the coals around so the second pan could have some heat as well. "Sir Bofur o' the Full Tankard, Clearer o' Floors."

"Now that's quite the catchy title! Might have t' add that onto the shop sign when it comes time t' have it made." He then held up the spoon. "Do you think this needs a bit more pepper?"

Swiping her finger across the back of it, she tasted it. "Hm. It does, but it should get it when I add the sausage crumbles in. Speakin' o' which…" She moved across the room and grabbed a pair of bowls, one being set inside the other. "Has Will been much help for you an' Bifur, by the way?" As she returned to the stove, Bofur saw that the inner bowl (which contained the sausage crumbles) had dozens of small holes pierced through its sides. When she lifted it up, he could see a layer of fat resting in the bottom of the second bowl.

"Well, yesterday was his last trial day," he told her, taking the hole-filled bowl from her so he could add the sausage into the gravy. "But he doesn't know that yet. After we've finished up today, Bifur an' I are going to give him his first round o' pay." Glancing up at her, he watched as a broad smile came to her lips and his head tilted ever so slightly. She had quite a pretty smile…

"That's wonderful t' hear!" she chirped, taking the bowl back as he handed it to her. "I know he's been havin' a lot of fun workin' for you two. It's been quite a while since he's gotten to do any sort of woodworking, whether it be carpentry or furniture makin' or even fine detail work. An' he's also been enjoying getting to tear down some walls an' roofs." She chuckled, brushing some hair behind her right ear as she used a spatula to lightly push the bacon around.

As she moved her hair, Bofur could see silver wire curling around her ear, forming the shapes of leaves and flowers. Some of them, though, looked as if they had been bent out of and back into place many times, leaving the cuff a bit weak in places. He couldn't be sure, but it almost looked like the small leaves and flowers were hiding some sort of scar.

"He's been a mighty big help—an' not just because o' his size, either," he told her. "He's a good worker an' he makes for great conversation, too. It's a shame people won't hire him because o' those scars." He shook his head in an almost disappointed fashion. "We dwarves actually celebrate scars—they show that we've lived through battle or through grievous injury. Same with tattoos. Almost every dwarf I know has at least three tattoos celebrating some battle or milestone in their life."

Baylee's head tilted slightly. "Is that so?" He nodded. "That's really interesting…most people I know think tattoos are worn only by vagabonds and thieves."

"Strange how some things can have such different meanings between cultures, isn't it?" he chuckled, lifting the spoon out of the gravy and swiping a clean finger across it. His brows rose as he tasted it, a grin appearing on his lips. "Oh, that's much better, lass!" He couldn't wait to have it slathered all over his biscuits.

She laughed, lightly shaking her head. "I knew the sausage would do the trick. It's a special kind that's a wee bit extra peppery and garlicy." Using the spatula, she flipped the bacon over, barely flinching as little droplets of fat splattered up onto the back of her hand. Then, setting the spatula aside, she grabbed a dishcloth and opened the latch of the oven.

"Well, it certainly makes the gravy a lot better," he chuckled. "It was good before, but now, I can't wait t' have it with everything else." As he tapped the spoon on the rim of the pot, he glanced over at her in time to see her opening the oven. Setting the spoon down, he returned to his stool, where his tea was waiting for him and still relatively warm.

Grabbing the peel, she started to remove loaves of bread and trays of biscuits from the oven. "That's good t' hear," she laughed. "It'd be a shame if you'd have t' have subpar gravy on your breakfast." She glanced over her shoulder, smiling at him before turning back to the oven.

Bofur looked up as someone entered the kitchen; he was only mildly surprised when he saw that it was Will. "Mornin', lad," he smiled.

"Mornin', Bofur, 'Lee," he said through a yawn. After yawning, he shuffled his way across the kitchen, grabbing a wooden cup on his way.

"Well, there you are," Baylee told him, her brow cocked as she pulled the last loaf of bread from the oven. "After the dancin' got started up, you seemed to have disappeared for the rest of the night."

Will's brow rose as he dunked his cup into the bucket of clean water. "No I didn't," he answered—just a touch too quickly for both Bofur and Baylee to believe him. "I had had a bit too much t' drink on an empty stomach, so I went to bed a wee bit early."

Baylee looked at her brother knowingly; from where she stood, she could see a small, red mark on the side of his neck. For now, though, she'd spare him the humiliation of pointing it out. "Ah, well, I suppose that happens when you forgo dinner for dancin' and drinkin'," she told him, closing the oven. Putting the peel back, she went over to the stove and found the bacon perfectly cooked. She used the spatula to transfer it onto a plate before laying out the slices of ham in the pan.

"Dancing an' drinking are a dangerous combination, whether you've got yourself a full stomach or not," Bofur chuckled. Taking a long drink of his tea, he slid off the stool once more and went to refill the mug.

"That is very true," Will chuckled before drinking his water. "So, has Baylee hired you on as her morning apprentice or are you wanting to avoid Nori the Chicken this morning?"

Snorting, Bofur shook his head. "So it is him who's makin' all that racket out there…Probably because Dori's motherin' Ori again." He shook his head, chuckling. "No to both o' those, by the way. As a reward for helpin' clear a path for her last night, Baylee here offered t' make me a breakfast o' whatever I wanted, whether it was on the menu for the day or not." He stood on his tiptoes, grabbing the same tin of tea his first cup had been made with

"Ahh, yes—'Lee knows that the best way t' either reward or bribe people is through their stomachs," Will laughed.

She pursed her lips in a small pout. "I'll have you know I rarely bribe people. An' when I do, it's either papa or Prim." Walking over to the bowl of eggs, she let out a small sigh as she plucked up the bowl. "By the way, Will, could ya run down to the cellar an' get me a fresh cask o' butter? We're nearly out up here."

"Sure thing," he said, setting his cup down. "Anything else you need from down there?" He started to walk to the pantry.

"Not that I can think of." Carrying the eggs over to the stove grate, she set it down on the counter. As she flipped the ham slices, she heard the creak and thud of Will opening the cellar door. "How many eggs are you wantin', Bofur?"

"Hmm…I think three should be enough," he replied, pouring hot water into his cup. "I didn't know the inn had a cellar."

"Oh, we do—it's only accessible through the pantry, though. There used t' be two ways t' get in, but the lower door got blocked off durin' Smaug's attack. Which, truthfully, is a bit o' a good thing." She went to grab some biscuits to add to his plate. "Means we don't have t' worry about anyone breaking in now."

He nodded in understanding. "Makes sense. An' since it's dug into the hill, I'm sure it stays plenty cold down th—" His brows rose and he looked down at the floor as he heard a dull 'thud' come from the cellar. "…Was that your brother?"

A small sigh left Baylee's mouth. "Aye. For some reason, he always manages t' bonk his head on at least one o' the beams down there," she explained. "It happens with da', too. The people who dug the cellar were a good four inches shorter than them."

"Which means you can pass right under them with ease." There was a small, teasing grin on his lips when she looked over at him.

"Ha, ha." Her voice was mixture of sarcasm and genuine amusement. Grabbing three of the biscuits, she quickly pulled them over onto the plate; they were still piping hot and burnt her fingers.

Quietly laughing, he raised his brow and glanced over at her. "How are your da' and brother so tall, anyway? Especially given that Will's your twin, I'd expect him t' be a bit shorter."

"Ah, I'm not too sure, t' be honest." She returned the plate to the stove, sliding the slices of ham onto it. "My mum wasn't too short, either—she was about three inches taller than auntie." Grabbing two eggs, she held one in each hand before giving them a quick rap on one of the bricks. She cracked them into the pan, watching as the clear albumen quickly turned white thanks to the hot pork fat. "We like t' joke that I'm the under-baked twin," she explained. "Will came nearly an hour after me, so he's the one who's fully baked."

Bofur watched as she cracked the third egg into the pan before tossing the shells into a nearby bucket. "I think that's a perfectly believable excuse," he told her, holding his mug with both hands. "That, or ya simply didn't have enough proofing time."

She giggled and sprinkled a bit of salt and pepper over the eggs. "That's the first time I've heard that excuse." She slipped the spatula under the first two eggs, which were already at the flipping point. As careful as she was while flipping, however, yolk started to flood out from beneath the white. "Oh, bugger…I broke the yolks. If you'd like, I could make you some new ones?"

"Don't worry, lass," he told her, a reassuring smile on his lips. "I always break at least one yolk when I'm makin' my own eggs. It's no trouble. An' look—you've got one that flipped perfectly." He grinned up at her.

She felt her cheeks grow a bit warm and she smiled. "That is true," she smiled.

"Got the butter!" Will announced as he came out of the pantry. "Only earned one potential bruise this time, too!" There was a cheeky-yet-victorious grin on his lips as he set the cask down on the counter.

"We heard that, lad," Bofur snorted. "Sounded like you hit pretty hard—are you sure you're alright?"

He nodded. "Aye, I'm fine. I actually didn't hit too hard; it just sounded loud."

"What he means t' say is that his skull is so thick, he hardly felt it," Baylee joked, plating the eggs along the meat and biscuits. "How much gravy would ya like, Bofur?"

"Oh, give me two big spoonfuls right over the biscuits," he told her. "If I need more, I know where t' find it."

Will laughed, his brow rising. "With how often I find you in here, I daresay you're going t' know this kitchen as well as Baylee an' the other lasses."

"Well, lad, I've never met a kitchen I didn't like," he stated, amusement in his voice. He watched as Baylee dolloped the gravy onto the plate.

Before she handed it to him, she added a spoon and knife to his plate. "Here you go, lad: One specially-made breakfast for Sir Bofur," she smiled. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she could see a bit of color come to his cheeks as he took the plate.

"Thank you again, Miss Baylee," he chirped. "I can already tell it's going t' be mighty delicious!" With a broad grin on his lips, he turned and left the kitchen.

Will looked down at his sister, his brow somewhat raised. "Sir Bofur?" he repeated.

"We were jokin' around about last night," she explained, moving to start slicing her brother and herself some bacon. "He was a bit o' a hero, clearing that path for me, so I dubbed him 'Sir Bofur, Clearer of Floors'." She chuckled quietly. "How much bacon do you want?"

"Eh, give me five slices if you're cutting them thin. Three if you're doin' thick." He watched her as he carefully refilled the kettle. "You seem to be getting along quite well with the dwarves."

"As do you," she smiled. "Bofur was tellin' me how much of a help you've been this week." She carefully sliced three, thick strips of bacon from the pork belly before making three, thinner slices.

He rubbed the side of his neck, chuckling. "It's been fun, doin' work like that again. Aye, I've woken up sore every morning this week, but I'd be lyin' if I said it wasn't worth it."

She smiled; she was happy to hear him say that—especially since she knew the surprise he'd be getting at the end of that work day. "I'm glad you're getting t' do work you actually enjoy again," she commented, slicing some ham as well.

"Don't get me wrong; I like traveling with the trading caravans, but…It's not working with my hands. Even if my hands don't always let me do fine detailin'." He looked down at his left palm and sighed, watching as his hand trembled a bit. The shaking was a result of damage his nerves had suffered; it wasn't too much of a hinderance to his life, but he did find it difficult at times to do subtle detail work or to hold his chisels in certain ways. "I trained for years t' be a woodworker for a reason. Just because I've got some scars now doesn't mean I'm any less capable of doing that work."

"Then it's good that dwarves don't mind scars," she chuckled. Bringing the meat over to the cooking grate, she laid the bacon down in the pan first. "An' it's a good thing your lady friend doesn't mind them, either."

Having been in the middle of grabbing himself some biscuits, Will froze. "Wh-what do you mean, my 'lady friend'?" he stammered, his cheeks turning a bit red.

Her brow rose and she glanced across the room at him. "What I mean is you're goin' to want to hide those marks on your neck before papa sees them," she smirked, watching as he clapped a hand over the side of his neck. "Who is she, by the way?"

Will swallowed hard and his cheeks grew darker. "N-No one. Just pretend you didn't see anything." He reached back and undid the strip of leather holding his hair back as he walked over to his sister. Shaking his head, he let his hair haphazardly fall into his face and over his shoulders. "There. Does this work?"

"Aye, it does. Though ya look ridiculous now," she lightly teased. "You know you can tell me, aye? I'm not about t' tell anyone."

He was quiet for a moment, ladling some gravy over his biscuits. "I will tell you," he began, "but not just yet. Not because I don't trust you, but…" He bit his lower lip. "I'm just not quite ready yet, you know?"

"That's understandable," she smiled, flipping the thinner pieces of bacon over. "If things go the way you like, though, as your big sister, I have a right t' know who she is first."

Snorting, he rolled his eyes. "I don't think you'd forgive me if I didn't tell you first."

"Obviously, for now, we should avoid demolishing the doorway, since there's going t' be a support post there. We should also avoid this area," Will used a piece of chalk to make a long, vertical line on the wall, "as well as here, here, an' here." He marked out more support beams. "Accidentally knockin' one out won't be too big o' a deal, but let's try to avoid taking out any more than that."

Bofur, his hands resting atop the butt of his mattock, nodded in understanding. "Until we get the new posts in, at least, right?"

"Aye, until that happens." He smiled at the two dwarves. "Did you decide where you wanted to put the window, by the way?"

At that, Bifur nodded. "Aye, we did," he said. "It's…bigger than either o' us expected, but this is going t' be a shop, after all, an' shops need nice, big windows." As Will offered him the piece of chalk, he went over to the exterior wall and started to draw a line. It started about a foot from the door and ended about a foot from the corner. "This line would be about where we want the bottom o' the window to be."

Will nodded, rubbing the back of his head. "Well, you weren't wrong—that is big. But it'll be easy enough t' get a frame fitted into something like that," he told them. "Were you wantin' t' take that bit of wall out today as well?"

"No, no…we're going to leave that for a bit," Bofur chuckled. "We're still figurin' out the best place to get glass…let alone how we want the window to look."

"I think we should have smaller panels held in place by wrought iron or lead, like the upper floor windows at the Tankard," Bifur stated. "It'd be more cost effective an' a nice bit o' decoration."

"While I think we should have larger panels or even one large sheet," Bofur chuckled. "It'd be easier for the lil' ones t' look through an' see all the toys."

"Why not both?" Will suggested, his head tilting slightly. "Have it be three panels, but on either end, you've got the wrought iron bits an' in the middle, a nice, big single panel."

The cousins looked at one another, their brows raised and contemplative looks on their faces. "We'd save money with just the one large panel and the other, smaller ones," Bifur told Bofur.

"An' we'd still have the decorative bits thanks to the smaller panels," Bofur replied.

Grins came to their faces as they looked back at Will. "Lad, you're just provin' yourself more and more useful each day," Bifur told him.

"It's a good thing we decided t' hire you," Bofur said in a businesslike tone and with a small nod.

Will's eyes widened as he gawked at the two dwarves. "Wh-what?" His eyes widened further as Bifur tossed a pouch to him; as he caught it, he could feel that it was heavy with coin.

"We're hirin' you on, lad," Bifur told him with a grin. "This entire week, you've proven t' be more than capable an' a dedicated worker. Not t' mention, it's been quite fun conversing with you." He put his hands on his hips. "That pouch there contains your week's earnings. You'll get a similar one every week from now until this project o' ours is finished. Does that sound good t' you?"

"Th-that sounds great!" Will answered, a broad grin on his lips. "Amazing, even!" He would have said more, but two figures stepped in through the door, catching his attention.

"Lunch delivery!" Baylee chirped, holding up a basket. Beside her was Ori, who was carrying a larger and heavier looking basket. "Hope we're not interruptin' anything or, if we are, it's not terribly important."

Bofur perked at the mention of lunch; they hadn't had a particularly laborious day just yet, but he had still worked up an appetite walking around. "Just gave your brother the news that we're hirin' him," he explained.

"So that's why he looks so shocked," she laughed. "I made sure t' pack a few extra honey cakes an' a few bottles o' the good cider t' celebrate."

Will looked at her, his brows furrowed. "You…you knew they were going to hire me?"

"Bofur might've told me this mornin'," she chuckled. She looked around, a smile remaining her lips. "This looks much different from what I remember."

Ori nodded in agreement. "It's coming along quite nicely! It's a lot more spacious lookin' now that you've got all the old stuff tossed out." He looked down at the floor, which was covered in mosaic flowers. "An' this floor is quite pretty, too!"

"An' to think we were going to rip it up before we gave it a good mop!" Bifur chuckled, walking over and taking the basket from Baylee. "So, what brings the two o' you here with lunch?" he questioned, peeking inside. Finding one of the honey cakes Baylee mentioned, he grinned and pulled it out before taking a bite.

"Well, for one, I thought it'd be good t' get you lads a good midday meal in just in case you end up workin' late again," Baylee answered. As Bofur motioned for everyone to follow him into the kitchen, she trailed after him.

Looking down at his sister, Will cocked his brow. "An' the other reason…?"

"The elves are walking around half naked," Ori answered, his nose scrunched up slightly. He saw both Bifur and Bofur copy him, their noses scrunching up in distaste as well. "At least, the male elves are. Tauriel an' the other lady elves are keeping themselves relatively covered."

"Ahh, so da' sent you an' Wenna both out of the inn for the afternoon, huh?" Will laughed, his brow cocked.

"I don't know why he sent me out—I'm not the one who stops an' stares at them as if I've never seen a shirtless male before." She shook her head and sighed. "Oh well. I'm not goin' to complain, since it means I have a whole afternoon t' go bother Prim." As they entered the kitchen, she looked around. It was quite a nice kitchen, complete with its own oven—a rare thing to find in a townhouse. 'The family who once lived here must have been part of the nobility,' she thought.

Bifur shook his head. "Never could figure out why folk find elves so attractive. No offense t' our Kili o' course, but…they're just not usually the sort o' beings we dwarves find attractive." He started to unpack the basket's contents, laying them out on the table.

"They're kind of nice to draw, though," Ori admitted, his voice a bit quiet. Like Bifur, he began to empty out his basket, setting four bottles of cider on the table. "But only because they're so different from drawing other dwarrows," he quickly added.

"Well, drawing the same thing over an' over again can get boring," Bofur chuckled. "Isn't that one o' the reasons why you're still here in Dale? So you could draw things not made by dwarves?"

Ori's cheeks turned a bit pink, but he nodded. "It is. Not to mention, there's a lot more color here than back in Erebor."

Baylee nodded. "Aye, that's very true. While the green marble is very lovely, it can be a bit overwhelmin', I'm sure."

"You've been to Erebor, lass?" Bifur questioned, his brow rising slightly. By now, he was pulling a couple loaves of bread and a small pile of honey cakes from the basket.

"Once, when da' and I went t' get Will some new carving tools," she explained. "It was the first time I was taller than the majority o' the adults around me." She grinned as her words earned snorts and laughs from the others.

Will shook his head as he still chuckled. "An' yet, da' still managed to make you look like a child, I bet." He took a seat on a stool, reaching for one of the cider bottles.

She pouted. "He makes almost everyone look like a child when they stand next to him. As do you, for that matter!" She moved to tuck some hair behind her ear only to wince; her hair had gotten tangled up in her ear cuff and was tugging on it.

"Here, let me help." Will stood up and went over to her, taking care as he started the tedious task of untangling. A look of concentration was on his face as he worked to free the cuff from the strands of hair, but after a moment, he frowned. "Ah…I think it's time you get a new cuff, 'Lee."

Her brow rose. "Why's that?" She frowned as Will held his hand out to her, showing her a portion of the metal vine that had broken off. "…Bollocks," she murmured.

"Is it a sentimental piece?" Bifur asked, his head tilted slightly. "If so, we know a few jewelers that may be able to fix it." He moved to sit down at the table; the table itself looked ancient, but the chairs were much newer.

Baylee gave him an appreciative smile. "Thank ya for the offer," she told him, reaching up to remove the rest of the cuff, "but it really doesn't hold any meaning t' me. It just hides a nasty bit of scarring."

"Nasty bit of scarring?" Ori repeated, his brows furrowed as he, too, sat down. "How so?" Part of him felt guilty for asking; Baylee's cheeks had turned a bit red and Will looked at his sister with some concern.

"Aye—not nearly as bad as Will's, but…" She pulled her hair off to one side and turned her head, showing the three dwarves that a good portion of her ear was missing. What was left was mostly jagged cartilage. "An orc managed to get a small bite out o' me before he got he got his throat sliced," she explained, letting her hair fall back into place.

Ori glanced over at Bifur and Bofur, finding looks of shock on their faces. He didn't find himself as surprised as them, since he already knew she had fought orcs at one point. Seeing that most of her ear was missing was still quite a surprise, however, especially when he hadn't been expecting it.

"Well, that is a rather nasty bit o' scarring indeed," Bofur said, "but, luckily, it's not too noticeable. Someone has t' stare at the side o' your head for quite a while before they even notice it—an' if someone's staring at you that long, well, then, they're being a bit creepy if you ask me."

Baylee laughed, her brow rising. "Aye, I suppose you're right," she smiled, his words bringing some ease to her; she was glad he hadn't asked how she had come to have an orc bite her ear off. "Also luckily, I'm a bit too short for most people t' pay attention to my ears." She lightly shook her head, still smiling. "I hope you lads enjoy your lunch," she then said. "I'll see you four at dinner tonight—Oh, but before I go! Tomorrow's laundry day. If you've any clothes or would like your bedding washed, there will be a sheet o' paper for you t' sign on the bar tonight. In the mornin', leave what clothes you want washed in a pile on the floor along with five silver per room occupant."

"Sounds fair enough," Bifur replied with a small nod.

"Aye. We'll probably sign up tonight, then," Bofur agreed. He and Bifur had been trying to ration out the spare clothes they had brought with them; all the manual labor they had been doing left them quite dirty. "Thanks for the heads up, lass!"

"You're welcome," she smiled. Turning away from the group, she headed back to the front of the store-to-be and then outside.

'Feels weird not having my cuff,' she thought, self-consciously touching her ear as she walked. 'I know it's not that noticeable, but after keeping it covered since the war…' Sighing, she clasped her hands behind her back and did her best to not think about it. 'Time to go find Prim…I'm sure she'll enjoy hearing about the visiting elves. That is, if Rosamunde, Rosemary, and Rosalyn haven't told her all about them yet.'

She started to make her way across town, to where the wealthier families lived. However, as she crossed the market, she found she wouldn't have to go that far to find Primrose.

"Baylee! Over here, lass!"

Looking towards the fountain, she saw Primrose standing beside Bard, the king of Dale and good friend to them both. She waved at the two of them before making her way over. "Just the lass I was looking for," she chuckled. She then moved to hug Bard. "An' long time no see, Mister King-o'-Dale!"

"Strange t' see you out and about at this time of day," Bard said, a small smile on his lips as he returned the hug. "With it being midday, I would have expected you t' be up to your neck in customers at the Tankard."

"Ah, no…Papa sent me an' Wenna out for the rest o' the day because the elves are bathin'," she chuckled. Seeing Bard's smile, she felt her stomach flutter slightly; he had always had a handsome smile…when he smiled, that is.

Primrose giggled, her brow rising. "The triplets told me about them," she commented. "Apparently they're a very handsome bunch, those elves."

Baylee rolled her eyes, though she smiled. "Aye, I suppose they are. But don't you go runnin' to the inn to steal any peeks."

"Any idea why they're here?" Bard asked her, his brow raised slightly. "It's not often we get groups of them anymore…"

"They're here t' celebrate Lady Tauriel's upcomin' wedding to Prince Kili," Baylee explained with a small nod. "Apparently, elves celebrate a few months before the wedding instead of a few days. At least, that's what Bofur told me."

At that, Bard's brows furrowed, his smile leaving. "Bofur…?" he repeated. "As in a dwarf with a funny hat?"

"Aye, that same one. He an' two other members o' Thorin's Company have been staying with us for a couple o' weeks."

Primrose's eyes widened. "You didn't tell me those dwarves were part of Thorin's Company!" she gasped.

She shrugged; she knew Primrose and her family held no animosity towards the dwarves for what had transpired eight years ago. "I only found out last night that they were."

"Who else is with Bofur?" Bard asked, his brow still lifted.

"His cousin, Bifur, an' their friend, Ori," she explained. "If you're worried that they're causin' trouble, then you can stop. They've been wonderful guests." She knew that Bard had had unpleasant experiences with Thorin's Company when they passed through Laketown and prior to the Battle of Five Armies, being that he had to sneak them into Laketown. "Bofur an' Bifur bought one of the buildings on the eastern main street and are renovating it with the intent to turn it into a toy shop."

He nodded slowly in understanding, absorbing the information she gave him. "I wouldn't have figured either of them to be toymakers," he murmured. He then shook the thought from his head. "Actually, speakin' of the inn, I was about to head over to there. I wanted t' ask your father a few things."

"Oh? What sorts o' things?"

"In a few weeks, Prince Fili from Erebor will be coming here so we can discuss sending a caravan to Laketown," he explained. "Normally, we wouldn't need t' discuss such things, but with the raiders that have been attacking lately—"

"Raiders?!" Primrose squeaked, her eyes wide. As Bard gestured for her to speak quieter, she added in a harsh whisper, "I haven't heard anything about raiders!"

"That's because we haven't wanted to scare anyone," he told her, his voice quiet. "Only a few folk know about them—they haven't really attacked any of the caravans coming this far north, so we haven't had to worry. But they've been gettin' bolder." He glanced at Baylee. "Has Will told you anything about them?"

She shook her head, a frown on her face. "This is the first time I'm hearin' anything about them. Are the raiders comin' from the east or from the Brown Lands?"

"We don't know. We don't even get consistent reports on whether they're human or orc." He sighed, glancing out over the city and towards the southern fields. "The only thing all the reports share is that they ride wargs."

Primrose visibly shuddered and Baylee cursed. "They have t' be orcs then," the former stated. "No human has the gall t' ride a warg o' all creatures."

"I don't know…If they're raiders, then they've got t' have quite the confidence in themselves," Baylee countered. "Not t' mention, if they are coming from the Brown Lands, that's prime breedin' grounds for wargs."

"How do you know?" she asked, brows furrowed.

Baylee shrugged. "Mum an' auntie told me. They would tell me an' Will tales about how they had t' help defend their village from roaming warg packs. When the attacks got too great in number, King Thengel sent an army o' seven or eight Éoreds to the Brown Lands t' thin the numbers down."

Both Bard and Primrose nodded in understanding, though only Bard seemed to understand just what an Éored was or how many men made up seven or eight of them. "That's good information t' know," he told her. "Thank you. I'll be sure t' bring that up when we have the meeting. Oh—yes, speaking of that. I was goin' to ask your da' if we could hold the meeting at the Tankard. Preferably in the private room, but it all depends on the size of Prince Fili's entourage, I suppose."

"I'm sure da' will be quite fine with that," Baylee replied. "Galiene might be left in a bit o' a tizzy—you know how she likes t' cook her most impressive dishes when important people come t' stay an' dine."

"Mmm…and if she's feeling extra special, she makes those delicious apple fritters o' hers," Primrose grinned. She looked at Baylee. "Do you think she'd make them for this sort o' event?"

"You know, if you asked her t' make some, she would," Bard told her with a small laugh. "All it takes it a wee little 'please, Miss Galiene' and she'll have them whipped up in no time. At least, that's what always worked for me."

Baylee laughed as well. "Aye, she loves making those fritters. Maybe I should ask her t' make some tonight or tomorrow?" A thoughtful look came to her features as she thought the prospect over. "She may have t' make a quadruple batch, though…If the lads get a taste o' one of the fritters, they're going t' want at least half a dozen each."

"The lads?" Primrose repeated, brows furrowed slightly.

"That's what I call the dwarves," she answered, cheeks turning a bit pink.

Bard chuckled. "I take it you've become fast friends with them, then? For some reason, that doesn't surprise me too much." He then shook his head again. "I should probably get over t' the Tankard…If I don't go now, your da' will talk my ear off until supper an' I've promised Sigrid that I'd help her fix her dollhouse this afternoon."

"Good luck with escapin' then," Baylee grinned. "He's in the forge, by the way; or, at least, he was when I left." She tucked some hair behind her unscarred ear. "An' you need t' stop by more often—especially if you've got Sigrid an' Bain in tow. I'm sure they're missin' their adopted grandpa something fierce."

"Believe me: There's nothin' more that I want than t' visit you lot more often," he assured her. "Sadly, being a king has its drawbacks an' those drawbacks involve a lot o' paperwork an' boring meetings." He shook his head, chuckling. "I'll see the two o' you later. Tell your family I say hello for me, Prim."

"Will do. See you, Bard."

"Bye, Bard." Baylee moved to sit beside Primrose on the fountain, watching the king for a moment longer before turning to her friend. "Is it just me or does he look a bit more tired than he used to?"

Primrose shrugged. "He could have had a bad night's sleep," she told her. "Or it could be the stresses o' being a king wearing on him. He had to learn how t' be one quite quickly, after all."

"That is true." She covered her mouth as she yawned. "I just realized he only told me one o' the things he was going to talk about with papa."

"Don't worry—that's about all I found out, too. My guess is it's super secret king stuff that he wants your father's opinion on." She chuckled, reaching into her basket and pulling out a hand pie before offering it to her friend. "I don't see why he doesn't just give in an' become Bard's advisor."

Taking the pie, Baylee broke it in half. "Thank you. An' I suppose it's because he doesn't want t' give up the Tankard to me or auntie just yet. He can't be a king's advisor and an inn keeper, after all." She took a bite of the pastry, her eyes closing in bliss. "Yavanna's grace, this has lemon curd in it…"

Giggling, Primrose watched her with a lifted brow. "It had been given to me with the specifications of making sure it got into your hands," she explained. "It's from Adela. She made one for Will, too, though I don't know its flavor."

At that, Baylee's brow rose. "Adela…as in your cousin, Adela Stover?"

"Aye, the very one," she replied. "Now, don't you go worryin' that she put something strange in them. Unlike my uncle, she has absolutely no quarrel with your family."

Biting her lower lip, Baylee looked down at the pie with a mixture of caution and intrigue. "But why would she make Will an' me pies?" Her eyes then widened slightly. 'Wait—if she sent me and Will a pie out of nowhere like that,' she thought, 'then…then maybe she's the one Will ran off with last night? It'd make sense, since he didn't want to tell me who he snogged; being the daughter of papa's rival…'

"Baylee? Is everything alright?" Primrose looked at her friend with concern.

"Aye, perfectly fine," she chirped before taking another bite of pie. "If you see Adela again, give her my compliments, please. This is a damned good lemon pie."

"Baylee, watch your tongue! It's unladylike to for a woman of your standing to use that sort of language!" her friend scolded, her lips pursed in a pout. "Why, imagine if Bard had been here to hear that. He'd be disappointed in you."

A broad grin came to Baylee's freckled face. "Bard's the one who taught me how t' curse properly."