A/N: Surprise early update~! I hope you all enjoy~!
"…Griddle cakes for Aizik, porridge for Fifika, an' some scrambled eggs an' sausage for Rán." Baylee smiled as she set the dishes down in front of their owners. "Is there anything else I can get for you lot?" she then asked.
"More cider, please," Kreine answered after taking the last drink from her tankard.
"Likewise, please," came the voices of Hunil, Aizik, and Ashailyn.
Nodding, Baylee gathered up their cups on her tray and headed over to the bar. It was still fairly early in the morning—only an hour or two past sunrise—but she had quickly come to learn that the rangers were early risers. Thankfully, though, their breakfasts were much lighter compared to the heavy meals she had grown used to making for the dwarves. In fact, they were quite light compared to the breakfasts had by other humans, too.
She was in the middle of refilling the third cider when the door to the inn opened and she curiously looked over; it was exceedingly rare to get a customer this early in the day. When Bofur and Bifur walked in, she blinked and then smiled. Both dwarves were wearing large smiles—a good sign, she thought, given that they had been gone the last two days because of the strange feeling in Bofur's stomach.
"Welcome back, Bofur an' Bifur," she smiled. "Judgin' by those big grins o' yours, all is well under the mountain?"
"More than well!" Bifur told her as they walked over to the bar.
"I'm a proud uncle t' a third niece!" Bofur was beaming as he said the words. "Three daughters for my brother—three! That's outright unheard of among our people!"
Her eyes widened and she let out a laugh; she knew that the female dwarf population was much lower than the other races, so she knew the importance of such an event. "That's wonderful! Mother an' child are both happy an' healthy, too, I take it?"
Bifur nodded. "Aye. After a nap, Gerdi was up and giving orders t' the rest of the family t' help prepare the feast," he laughed. "She even had Thorin slicin' up vegetables."
"Thorin is good at many a thing, but being in the kitchen…?" Bofur shook his head. "He's much better at being a king than a chef."
She snorted, her brow rising. "Thorin was really there?"
"Oh, aye he was; Dis, his sister, is best friends with Gerdi an' there was no way she was going to miss the birth o' her friend's eighth child," Bifur explained as he came around the bar, grabbing himself a mug. "As such, our families have grown quite close."
"So we're allowed t' make fun of Kili for turning into a blubbering mess when he got t' hold wee lil' Edda," Bofur snickered.
"Aw, Edda is an adorable name!" She set the now-full mug of cider on the tray before grabbing the last one. "I'm glad all turned out so well! I have t' admit, I've been worried that maybe something bad had happened an' that's why you two were gone so long." Moving to fill the cup, she saw Bifur patiently waiting his turn. "Have you two eaten, by the way?"
Bofur chuckled, feeling his cheeks flush ever so slightly when she said that she had been a bit worried about them. "Nope, just one, big happy event," he laughed. "An', aye, we have eaten. Gerdi made sure we're going to be stuffed until dinner. Do you mind if I go make myself some tea, though?"
"Feel free," she smiled. "I'll be in there once I get these ciders dealt back out to the rangers." She looked back into the tankard just in time to close the tap. "All yours, Bifur." Setting the tankard down on the tray, she picked the tray up and carried it back to the rangers.
"Lady Baylee?"
She blinked, turning her head to look up at Rán as he spoke; she wasn't quite used to being called 'lady'. "Aye?" She set Ashailyn's cup down beside her.
"I apologize if this seems intrusive," he started, "but I have been curious as to why you allow the dwarves into the kitchen and behind the bar, but no one else?"
"Not intrusive at all, milord," she replied with a smile. "They're friends an' they've proven trustworthy enough for us t' let them serve themselves at times. Mostly in the mornings when it's just me workin', though."
His head tilted curiously, though there was some concern in his eyes. "…You mean to say it has only been you cooking the meals for us and the dwarves at this time?"
She nodded, moving to set Hunil's tankard down beside him. "Aye, but no worries—Breakfast is one o' the easiest meals to make," she assured him. "I can make a big batch o' something and then distribute it evenly among the orders."
Aizik leaned across the table, taking his mug from her and uttering a thanks before taking a long drink from it.
Rán nodded slowly in understanding. "So long as it is not burdensome to you," he said. "As guests here, we do not wish to be nuisances."
She dismissively waved her hand after returning Kreine's mug. "Nuisances? So far, you've been as good o' guests as the dwarves," she replied with a smile. "However, if you'll excuse me, I'm smellin' the first batch of bread quite strongly, which means I've got t' get them out of the oven." As Rán nodded, she turned and left the table, heading for the kitchen.
Upon entering the kitchen, she found Bofur at the stove, just setting the kettle down on the grate. "Ah, did I forget t' refill that again?"
Having not heard her, Bofur jumped in surprise. "Mahal's beard, lass, you gave me a right fright!" he half laughed, half sighed in relief.
"Sorry," she chuckled, setting her tray down. As she walked behind him, she lightly set her hand on his shoulder to let him know she was there. "I thought you had heard me open the door."
"Ah, I guess I was too lost in my thoughts t' have heard it." He glanced over at her, just in time to see her grab the peel off the wall. "Your fruit bread was very well received, by the way."
"Was it?" She looked over at him as she opened the oven, standing off to one side to let the heat waft out.
He nodded. "Aye, it was. Everyone loved it—Fili, especially. He adores cranberries, so he was trying t' steal all of the bread when no one was looking." As he watched her, he saw her cheeks grow dark red; but whether it was from hearing how much Fili enjoyed the bread or the heat of the oven, it was impossible to tell.
"I'll be sure t' make extra for when he visits," she said with a small grunt, pulling three loaves out of the oven. "Don't want t' disappoint the crown prince o' Erebor, after all!"
"I think it'll be the only time Fili will accept special treatment bein' given to him," he chuckled. His brow then rose slightly as he thought of something. "By the way, have you eaten yet today, lass?"
"Not yet, no. I was goin' to eat some food after I get these out o' the oven an' the next batch in. In fact, that plate there is mine." She pointed at a plate that had three fried eggs, some sausages, and a pair of seed cakes on it before pulling two more pans out of the oven.
Moving to get himself a mug and some tea, he glanced over his shoulder at her, seeing her starting to put the next batch of loaves into the oven now. "Good. The last thing we need is for you t' go hungry." Climbing up on the counter, he grabbed himself a cup.
"Hm. I think I've heard someone say that t' me before," she joked. She tucked some hair behind her ear before gathering up three loaves on the peel.
"Well, whoever said it t' you must've known what they were talkin' about," he joked in return. He slid off of the counter and opened the tea tin; behind him, he heard the creak and thud of the oven door closing.
"Speakin' food, though, it'll be Wenna or papa bringin' you lads your lunch today," she said, hanging the peel back up.
He cocked his head as he started to fill the tea strainer. "Hm? Why is that?"
"My uncle needs my help out in the fields," she explained. "Since everything's coming into bloom, he wants t' go look for the flowers an' roots he can use in his medicines. Papa an' me are the only ones who remember what the plants look like, so he's bringing me along this time. Ori will be coming with us, too."
Nodding in understanding, he put the strainer in the cup before carrying it over to the stove. "Makes sense. I suppose your da' doesn't want t' leave the inn without supervision for too long, after all."
She laughed, using the peel to close and latch the oven shut. "Ah, Galiene an' auntie are all the supervision the Tankard needs. Da's just the muscle if ever any trouble gets stirred up."
"Has there ever been trouble here?" he asked, his brow rising.
"Not very often, but there has been a few incidents in the past…I think the last time was two years ago? Pair o' unsavory men came in and kept harassin' auntie an' our previous hostess. Da' hoisted them both up like they were nothin' and literally tossed them out into the street while scolding them for being such rude customers." Walking over, she picked up her plate of food. "I think they got so embarrassed they didn't even go t' the Hog's Head."
"The Hog's Head?" he repeated, looking up at her as he filled his mug with boiling water.
She nodded. "Aye. It's a seedy inn over on the northern side o' the city. The only folk who go there are scoundrels an' vagabonds."
'I wonder if Nori knows about it, then?' Bofur thought to himself. "Well, I'll be sure to stay away from it then. Don't need my purse pinched or t' be drinking stale ale any time soon."
"Is this enough dandelions, uncle?"
Peering into Baylee's basket, Richard found it half full—a feat, given how large the basket was. He chuckled and nodded. "Aye, that should be more than enough. Did you happen t' see any calendulas while you were out lookin'?"
She nodded and pointed out to a large swathe of yellow in the near distance. "Almost that whole area is calendula an' dandelions. I wasn't sure if you wanted any calendula yet, so I held off on gathering it."
"Alright. Let's bundle up your dandelions then you can go an' fetch some that next," he told her. From a cloth sack, he pulled out a second sack that he held open for his niece. She carefully poured the dandelions into it, having to tap the bottom of the basket a few times to loosen those flowers that had gotten stuck. "This will make plenty of tea and salve," he murmured.
"Aye, it should," she agreed with a chuckle. Leaning over slightly, she peered into his basket. "Athelas? Did papa ask you t' get him some?"
Tying the bag closed and standing up, Richard headed over to his horse. "Aye, he did. But, as he's proven in the past, it's a good herb t' keep around." Not wanting the flowers to get crushed inside the saddlebag, he tied the sack to it instead. There were already four others hanging from the saddlebag, each one filled with a different type of plant. "Have you managed to find any angelica yet, by the way?"
"No. I tried lookin' in the spots I found it last year, but there weren't any. If you'd like, I could ride t' the more southern fields an' look there?"
He shook his head, watching as she used the hem of her overdress to wipe as much pollen from the inside of the basket as possible. "No, no—that's fine, love. I'll restock when I get to Laketown. Their angelica is already dried, after all." Turning, he looked out over the field; in the near distance, he saw a dark spot among a patch of orange flowers: Ori. "Speakin' of Laketown…Would you like t' come with me?"
Her eyes widened and a grin spread across her lips. "O' course I would! It's been almost four years since I last visited," she told him.
"I had a feeling that'd be your answer," he chuckled. Reaching down, he lightly ruffled her hair. "I want you t' think a bit longer on it, though. With those reports o' raiders attacking travelers, it might be a bit of a dangerous trip this time around and I want you t' consider the fact that you may, possibly, have t' fight against humans."
Her brows furrowed. "But the reports haven't stated if they're orcs, humans, or even a mixture o' both."
"Which is why, if you do still decide t' come with, you need t' be prepared just in case. I know you've fought an' killed orcs, but fighting against—and possibly killing—humans is going to mess with your mind more than any orc." He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest before looking out over the fields again. "There's a reason I'm a healer an' not a warrior…the first time I had t' kill a man, it left me traumatized for weeks."
She nodded slowly in understanding, also looking out at the fields. "I'm pretty sure it's papa I'll have t' convince to let me go," she said after a few minutes. "An', knowin' him, it's going to take a lot o' convincing on my part."
"Well…you are his little girl. Any man would be loathed t' let his daughter go travelin' when there's been reports of raiders." He chuckled quietly and shook his head. "But, it's not as if you'll be travelin' alone. There's a reason why it's goin' to be a group o' us traveling south. Safety in numbers and all that." Looking up at the sky, he saw the sun nearly three-quarters of the way through the sky. "It's almost time t' head back. Why don't you go fetch Ori an' some calendula, love? I'll finish up here an' meet you over on the road."
She nodded. "Alright, uncle. It shouldn't take me too long—not with how much o' the flower is out there." Chuckling quietly, she fetched one of the empty sacks and went over to Buttercup. She mounted the horse and, after turning her around, clicked her tongue. The mare took off down the path at a trot.
Not even ten minutes later and the pair had reached the swathe of orange and yellow flowers. Ori, who was sitting in the middle of them, looked up from his sketchbook and smiled.
"Still drawing?" Baylee asked, dismounting the horse. Carefully picking her way through the field, she moved to sit beside him.
"Ah, I took a bit of a break," he admitted. "Drawing cities and rocks can be rather tedious." His cheeks turned a touch pink as he smiled. "…Would you like t' see?"
She perked; though he had freely shown her the drawing he had done of her mother's grave, Ori was a bit secretive when it came to his sketchbook. "I'd love to," she replied.
Opening his sketchbook to the correct page, he turned it around and handed it to her. "Be a bit careful; it smudges easily." He watched as she took the book, making sure to hold it only by the edges.
Scrawled across two pages were Dale and the outstretched arms of the Lonely Mountain. She looked up from her spot, comparing the sight of the real thing to the drawing. A grin came to her lips; it was nearly an exact copy. Looking back down at the sketch, she continued to marvel at it.
"If there was a bit o' color t' this, I'd think I was lookin' at the real thing," she told him, carefully handing it back. "Actually, thinking about it, I could have been lookin' at the real thing durin' winter."
His cheeks flushed darkly and his smile turned more shy. "R-really? An' here I was thinking it looked like hen scribbles."
"You must know some extremely talented hens, then." She gently nudged him with her elbow. "You should have more faith in your art—it's honestly some o' the best I've ever seen, Ori." While she spoke, she had started to pick the flowers and put them into the sack.
He let out a small laugh. "To be honest, the only hen I really know is Dori," he joked. "I bet he's just itching to come get me from Dale…" Shaking his head, he closed his sketchbook again and slid it into its harness. Then, looking at Baylee, he found her picking flowers. "I didn't know marigolds had medicinal benefits…"
"Aye, they do. I'm not sure about all their uses, but I know that creams an' ointments made with them are good for the skin while the oil extracted from them can be helpful for cleanin' wounds. Oh, an' you can extract dye from the petals an' use it to dye cheese." Picking one of the flowers, she lifted it up and started to inspect it. "They're also very pretty."
"From what I've heard, you think all flowers are pretty," he teased.
Her cheeks darkened a bit and her brow rose. "Let me guess: Will told you that?" She laughed as he nodded. "Well…he's not wrong. I do love flowers." Tucking the plant into the sack, she started to gather up more. "In Laketown, I used t' have a little window box o' dwarf sunflowers. They were the cutest little things; they always put me in a good mood whenever I saw them."
"I take it sunflowers are your favorites, then?"
"Mhm. They're just so bright an' cheery. The only part I don't like 'bout them is the seed pods on the really big sunflowers." She stuck her tongue out at the thought. "I don't know why, but the sight o' all those seeds just gives me the willies."
"For some reason, it really doesn't surprise me that sunflowers are your favorite," he laughed. "But I agree: The seed pods are creepy." His nose scrunched up slightly before he shook his head. "Funny that you say sunflowers are your favorite, though…They're also Bofur's favorite." Picking two of the flowers, he started to weave them together.
Her brows rose in surprise. "Really? I didn't think males had favorite flowers…"
"Some o' us do—not many, but there are those o' us who enjoy them. Bofur likes sunflowers, I like tulips, Thorin likes bluebells…"
"Tulips?" She chocked her head. "I've never heard o' that kind of flower before."
"Really? Ah, come t' think o' it, I suppose I haven't really seen any growing on this side o' the Misty Mountains…But they're a pretty flower that come in all sorts o' colors." Picking a few more flowers, he started to weave them into the chain. "I've been thinking about askin' Dori to import some. I think they'd do fairly well here."
"If they bring more color t' the area, then I'm all for it," Baylee grinned. She was forced to scoot a little way away from him as she ran out of flowers within her reach. "Aye, color is coming back to the area, but it's still mostly varying shades o' grey."
He snorted. "Oh, sure, give me even more excuses to break out my pigments in the future," he joked. "But…you're right. The area could do with more color an' with how many different varieties o' tulips there are, there could be miles an' miles o' tulip fields, each one a different color an' never repeating."
"That many? Who grows them? Or do they grow that way naturally?"
"Both. They were found t' be so pretty, humans, dwarves, an' hobbits started to cultivate them an' somehow managed to create even more varieties." He glanced over at her, finding her back to him as she continued to pick only the best of the flowers. Looking down at the chain of calendula he had made, a mischievous grin came to his lips.
"I always find it interestin' how farmers are able t' make new types of plants," she chuckled. "They can make hardier varieties o' wheat, larger types o' carrots, less leafy celeries—" She blinked as she suddenly felt something land on her head. Raising her hand, she lightly brushed it across the top of her head and found a crown of flowers sitting there. She then looked over her shoulder to find Ori wearing a cheeky grin. "You made me a flower crown?"
He shrugged, still grinning. "I thought my fingers could use the stretch," he half-joked.
She smiled, her cheeks a touch pinker than they were a moment ago. "Well, thank you," she chuckled. "Now I'm goin' to smell pleasant for the rest o' the day."
A small laugh left his mouth and he cocked his brow. "Normally, you smell like freshly baked bread, so I'd say you smell pleasant most o' the time," he told her. Realizing how strange that sounded, he then frowned. "N-Not that I'm goin' around, smelling you or anythin'. It's just, whenever we've met up outside of the Tankard, you've always smelled like baked bread."
Baylee laughed, making Ori feel a bit relieved. "Aye, I suppose that's one o' the perks of baking so much," she grinned. Giving the bag of flowers a shake to get them settled, she found that it was filled little more than a quarter of the way. "To be honest, I do wear a bit o' perfume, but it seems that it just ends up blendin' in with the bread."
Kneeling down near her, he started to help with gathering flowers. "What scent is it?"
"Almond."
"Ah…yes, that would blend in quite well with the breads," he chuckled. "At least you get stuck with work that makes you smell good. Some jobs out there leave you smellin' horrible."
She giggled and nodded in agreement. "My da' learned that the hard way. My mum wouldn't marry him until he found a job that didn't leave him smellin' like an unwashed pig."
"Blacksmithing can be quite smelly," he chuckled. "I don't have personal experience with it, o' course, but when you're a dwarf, you know plenty o' other dwarves who are smiths."
"I can only imagine how bad it can get if you've got more than one person in an area," she chuckled. "Papa has his little forge next t' the stables where he makes an' repairs pots an' pans, an' after just a few hours in there, he can smell quite…well, bad." Scooting forward a bit more, she continued to pick the flowers.
"The perils of doing such laborious work, I'm afraid," he smiled. Standing up, he walked over to her and, as she opened the bag for him, dumped his bundle of flowers into the bag. When she gave it a shake, they saw that it was halfway full. "How much more do we need to collect?"
"I like t' get it at least three-quarters full," she explained. "Extractin' enough oil to fill even just half o' one of his bottles takes the majority o' a bag."
Ori frowned as he crouched down and started picking more flowers. "That's not a very big harvest t' yield ratio. How does he extract the oil from them?
"He uses a sort o' press. It basically smashes the flowers, which forces the oil out o' them." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear; having forgotten she was wearing a flower crown, she got a little startled when her fingers brushed past the petals.
"Is that the only way t' get the oil out?"
"There are a few ways, but for him, the easiest method is the pressin' method. There's one way that involves usin' a type of very strong alcohol an' lard, but we need all o' the lard for the kitchen."
His brow rose. "That…sounds like a really strange way to extract oil. I don't really see how alcohol or lard could help with that, t' be honest."
She nodded in agreement. "Aye, neither do I. Uncle tried t' explain it to me once, but it just got too complicated." Looking up, she gazed towards the rocks where she had last seen her uncle. His horse was no longer there—in fact, his horse was no longer in sight. 'He's probably on the other side of the rocks,' she told herself.
Ori, on the other hand, glanced in the opposite direction. His brows furrowed slightly as he saw a single rider heading in their direction. It was hard for him to tell at what speed they were traveling, but it was faster than a trot. "I wonder who that is?" he thought aloud.
"Hm?" Turning, she saw the rider, but they were still too far for her to make them out. "Probably just one o' the farmers needing t' come t' town for something," she assured him. In truth, however, she was a bit wary of the person. Standing up, she leaned backwards slightly and heard her back pop a couple of times. "Let's get the flowers closer t' Buttercup," she suggested. "That way we won't have t' walk as far back." Just in case the rider was unfriendly, she wanted to be near the mare—both as a means of escape and because of the sword she had tucked under her saddlebag.
"That's a good idea," he smiled, unaware of her true intentions. He dumped his current batch of flowers into the sack and headed back across the flower patch.
Following behind him, Baylee kept glancing at the rider. Unlike Ori, she knew they were riding at a canter rather than a gallop—she guessed whoever it was would pass by them in about five minutes.
'Just a farmer, Baylee,' she thought. 'It's just a farmer…if it were a raider, they'd be a dumb raider, striking this close to the city.' Kneeling down, she started to pick calendula once more.
"So…your uncle mentioned on the way out here that he's plannin' on going down t' Laketown with the group Fili an' Bard are arranging," Ori said after a moment. "Why does he need t' go there?"
"Well, for one, his an' auntie's children an' grandchildren live down there an' he'd like t' visit them," she explained. "The other reason is because Laketown has lot o' herbs an' medicinal plants that Dale doesn't have."
His head tilted. "How much more can they have? They're—what, twenty? Thirty?—miles south o' Dale."
"No, no, they're closer t' fifty; Laketown's at the southern end o' the Long Lake," she chuckled. "But landscapes can change a great deal in such a small distance. Up here, it's rocky an' hilly while down at the southern end o' the lake, the land is much flatter." Hearing the sound of approaching hooves, she looked up and felt a wave of relief wash over her.
The rider, who was slowing his horse down to a trot and then a walk, was Rán. He offered the two a friendly smile. "Lady Baylee, Master Ori…I am surprised to see the two of you out here."
"We're helpin' my uncle pick medicinal flowers," Baylee explained. She then looked around, both for her uncle and the other rangers. "Where are the other rangers?" she asked.
"In all directions," he replied. "We each picked a direction and rode for two hours, scouting out the areas along the way. It is one of our methods for looking over large areas of land. When we reunite, we will discuss how useful it was in terrain such as this."
The two nodded in understanding. "That's a good way t' see if there are any enemies nearby," Ori commented. He poured his third batch of flowers into the sack. "It looks like we have enough now," he told Baylee.
She gave the bag a small shake and nodded. "Aye, we do," she smiled. Tying the sack shut, she glanced back at Rán; she had to agree with Wenna: He was very handsome. "So, I take it that you went south-east from here? Or plain east?"
"Plain east," he said, watching as she went to tie the sack to her saddlebag. His brow rose slightly as he caught a glint of metal under the leather bag. Was that…a sword? Why would a woman such as herself have a sword with her…? "Though, given the arms of the mountain, I had to return from the southeast, as the Lonely Mountain doesn't yet have an eastern gate."
"That's because the eastern side o' the mountain is where the mines are," Ori explained. "Though, Thorin's been thinking about the possibility o' building a minor gate in that direction just in case the mountain's ever put under siege again."
He nodded in understanding, his head tilting somewhat as he watched Baylee mount her mare with an unusual amount of ease for someone of her size. "That would be a sound idea," he said. "Not only would it provide a secondary escape route, but it would also allow those traveling from the Iron Hills a quicker entrance into the city."
Leaning over, Baylee offered her hand to Ori and, when he took it, pulled him up into the saddle with her.
"…You…are very strong for an inn maiden, Lady Baylee," Rán then said with a small chuckle. Being half dwarf himself, he knew dwarves weren't the lightest of people. "But I suppose it is to be expected, given how heavy those platters of food must be."
Her cheeks turned pink at his words and she chuckled. "Aye, they can get quite heavy at times—especially if you're havin' to carry them with just one hand." Seeing her uncle finally come into view, she mentally sighed in relief; she had been beginning to wonder if he had hurt himself somehow. "Would you like t' ride back with us? Or do you have a specific place you're supposed t' meet up at?"
"We are to meet at the inn," he replied, "so I believe I will take your offer and ride along." As Baylee clicked her tongue, her mare started off at a trot, so he gave a gentle kick to his stallion's sides, starting him off at a trot as well.
Slightly looking down at Ori to make sure he was alright, Baylee frowned as she saw a small beetle crawling across his hair. "Ori, is it alright if I touch your hair?" she asked. "There's a bug in it."
He stiffened slightly, his nose scrunching up. "Y-yes, please get it out."
Rán softly laughed. "You know dwarvish customs, then?" He should have figured she did, given how well she seemed to know the dwarves who were at the Full Tankard.
"A few, aye, though I've been learning more an' more ever since Ori an' the other lads started stayin' at the inn." Plucking the beetle up, she gave it a small toss into the grass. "Though, speakin' o' stays at inns, how have you an' your rangers been enjoying your stay?"
"I can honestly say that your family's inn is one of the nicest we have had the pleasure of staying at," he told her. "The inns back in Dorwinion are completely different than yours."
"Oh?" Her head tilted somewhat; she always enjoyed hearing about different life was in different places. "How so?"
"For one, we called them 'hostels'. Instead of many separate rooms with one or two beds, they have large rooms with many, many beds. Usually, there is a room for males and another for females," he began. "Some have private rooms for couples or those who don't want to share a sleeping space. All hostels have communal kitchens where you are expected to do your own cooking—or, if the group staying there is friendly, everyone helps in making a large, shared meal. There is an attendant or two who make sure the rules are followed, but other than that, it there is no staff."
Baylee's brows furrowed. "But…who washes the bedding?"
Her question was both endearing and amusing to him; not many people he knew would wonder about such a trivial chore. "Many towns in Dorwinion have laundresses who come and collect the dirty bedding—and not just from the hostels, but from people's houses, too—and are paid by the attendants. Others require the guests who used the bed to wash the bedding on their own prior to their departure."
"That…sounds like a lot o' work for a place where you're supposed t' rest," Ori said with a small frown.
"It is because of that work that hostels charge less than an inn," Rán admitted. "But I am quickly coming to learn that the extra gold is worth the luxury of extra rest." He chuckled quietly, his brow rising as he looked at the two of them. "There are a few inns like yours, though they are usually used by the upper classes who can afford them."
She nodded in understanding. "Hm. That sounds interestin'…Will's been t' Dorwinion twice an' stayed for a few weeks, but he never told me anything about where he stayed or what he did. He mostly just spoke of how warm it is there an' how mint is used in a lot o' dishes."
"Mint? I thought that was only good for teas and soaps?" Ori questioned, his brow rising.
At that, Rán let out a slightly louder laugh. "I assure you, Master Ori, that mint is good for far more than just teas and soaps. It is one of our staple herbs and is used in many, many different kinds of dishes. It can be used in both savory and sweet applications. My favorite way to use mint, however, is when it is paired with chocolate."
Baylee's head tilted. "Chocolate…? What's that?"
Ori gasped, his eyes widening as he turned in the saddle enough to stare at her in shock. "You've never had chocolate!?"
She shook her head. "Never even heard o' it, to be honest."
"It is a delicacy," Rán told her. "Like mint, it can be used in savory and sweet applications, though it is mostly used in sweet things. Cakes, candies, breads…There is also a drink made with it called 'hot chocolate'."
"We have some chocolate in our shop!" Ori pipped up. "I'll be sure to grab some for you when I go back t' Erebor t' get a bit more pocket money. It's really good."
Rán cocked his head. "You have a shop?" he questioned.
"Well, it's not so much my shop as it is my eldest brother's shop," he explained, his cheeks turning a bit red. "But it's a trading post that deals in luxury items from foreign lands. He's got things all the way from the south of Gondor to the Red Mountains in the east. He's even got ice wine from Järvamaa in the far north."
"I must admit, I have never heard of such a place—nor have I heard of such a thing as 'ice wine'," Rán chuckled. "It certainly sounds interesting, though." As they approached Richard, he gave the older man an acknowledging nod.
Returning the nod, Richard looked at his niece and smiled. "I see you got a bit of extra calendula," he commented upon seeing the flower crown atop her head.
Her cheeks pinkened as she grinned. "Ori made it for me," she chirped. "But we did manage t' get you nearly a whole sack full o' the flowers. Should be enough t' get you half a bottle o' calendula oil."
"Good, good…that should be enough to last me until we get more in Laketown." He brought his horse around to ride alongside Buttercup. "I got your father enough athelas t' last him the year—should no one accidentally feed it t' a pig or chicken."
She snorted. "I doubt that'll happen. He keeps it as safe—if not safer—than the gold the inn brings in." Tucking some hair behind her ear, she looked up at the city. They were still a good half an hour's ride from the eastern gate. 'We should be back with plenty of time before the dinner rush,' she thought.
"What is athelas?" Rán question. "I take it that it is some sort of herb?"
"You might know it under the name 'kingsfoil'," Richard explained. "Athelas is its ancient name."
Rán shook his head. "I have never heard of such an herb. Perhaps it is not suited to the climate of Dorwinion?"
"It grows in Gondor, which is much warmer than up here," Richard said, his head tilting ever so slightly. "Curious…I thought it grew in most place?"
It was Baylee's turn to shake her head. "No. Athelas was brought t' mainland Middle Earth by the Númenóreans," she explained, "an' they didn't go very far t' the east. They stuck to the north an' to Gondor."
The three males looked at her in a mixture of surprise and fascination.
"How do you know that?" Ori questioned, turning to look at her once more. "I've heard o' the Númenóreans before, but only in a book…"
"I have never heard of such a people," Rán admitted.
Her cheeks grew red and she felt a bit confused; did they really not know of the Númenóreans, who were such an immense part of Middle Earth's history? "Da' told me an' Will all about them when we were younger," she said. "They were descendants o' the Edain who dwelt on the island o' Númenor before its fall. It was the Númenóreans who founded Gondor an' the ancient realm o' Arnor."
"Who were the Edain?" Ori questioned.
"The First Men—the very first humans who awoke an' walked on Middle Earth." She rubbed the side of her neck. "The Númenóreans are the reason there aren't many forests left in Middle Earth…one o' their kings was greedy an' had his men chop down all the trees in order t' build a fleet o' ships."
Richard nodded slowly, though there was a bit of skepticism in his expression—he was a healer, after all, and not a historian. "Interesting," he murmured. "He's never mentioned the Númenóreans around me."
"I have a vague recollection of learning about an ancient, seafaring people when I was much younger," Rán said. "Perhaps they are the same as these Númenóreans you speak of?"
"Maybe," she said, though now she sounded a bit uncertain. 'Now I'm starting to wonder if they're an actual people or if papa made up a very intricate people for a fairytale,' she thought. 'I wouldn't put it past him; he's always been a great storyteller…Maybe I'll ask him about it later, when I go to ask about visiting Laketown…? That sounds like a good plan…'
Nearly an hour later found Baylee and Rán in the stables of the Full Tankard, both of them brushing their horses down. Upon arrival, Rán discovered that he was the last of the rangers to return—something he had expected, given that he had slowed his pace a great deal in order to ride along Baylee and Richard. Once dismounted, Ori headed into the inn and Peter, knowing that Richard was itching to go prepare his bundles of flowers, took his horse into the stables for him.
"It was these Númenóreans who were the ones to essentially settle the western lands of Middle Earth?" Rán asked, running the brush along his stallion's neck.
"Yes an' no. There were already groups o' people living over here, but thanks t' the evil in the land, they tried t' isolate themselves in order to stay safe," Baylee explained. She leaned back slightly as Buttercup shook her head. "Because o' that, they were still fairly—primitive, I think, was the word papa used? When the Númenóreans came, they helped drive the evil out o' the land and helped the people learn farming an' the like."
"And what became of their descendants?"
"They became the Dúnedain o' Arnor an' the Dúnedain o' Gondor." Patting Buttercup's neck, she moved to leave the stall, closing the gate behind her. "Gondor still thrives, but Arnor is little more than a handful o' villages scattered across the northern lands west o' the Misty Mountains."
Rán glanced over his shoulder at her, watching as she went into the storage stall to return the brush. He was more than a little impressed by her knowledge on this subject and how she explained it in such an easy to understand way. "How did your father come to learn all of this?"
She shrugged. "From what he told me an' Will, it was his father who told it t' him. Da' said this was important history that we should know, lest it be forgotten."
"I take it, then, that the people of Dale are descendants of the Númenóreans?" Finished with brushing his stallion, he, too, left the stall and closed the gate behind him.
"Actually, no. We're considered Northmen; we're descendants o' the humans who never crossed the Misty Mountains."
He nodded slowly in understanding. "I wish the bits of history I had learned as a child were as fascinating as the history you learned, let alone taught by such an interesting person," he chuckled, walking alongside her as they left the building. As he stole a glance at her, he found that her cheeks had grown pink. "What I did learn was mostly about my mother's people…even then, I did not find it very interesting."
"Was your mother the dwarf, then?" she asked, her head cocked slightly.
"Yes, she was. She was a Stonefoot—a clan who dwell in the northern half of the Red Mountains."
She thought for a moment. "Stonefoots…they're the ones who have the best endurance out o' all the dwarves, right?"
Rán let out a laugh, pleasantly surprised by her knowledge. "Yes, they are!" he told her. "And how did you come to learn that? Did the masters tell you about the clans?"
A smile came to her lips and Rán suddenly found himself thankful that he didn't blush easily. He had found Baylee quite pretty (though the other rangers didn't understand why, as they found her to be plain), but with the flower crown atop her head, he thought she looked utterly lovely.
"Aye, they have. Bifur an' Ori are t' blame for those lessons while Bofur an' Nori have been instructin' me on the art o' dish tossing," she chuckled. Tucking some hair behind her ear, she looked over at the archway in time to see Bifur, Bofur, and Will entering the courtyard. "Well, speak o' the devils!"
The three males smiled and waved as they saw her.
"Looks like 'Lee's been crowned queen o' the marigolds," Will joked. "I take it that means the flower huntin' you an' uncle did was successful?"
"Aye. We found an abundance o' all the flowers he needed." Her brow rose and, standing on tiptoe, she brushed some woodchips off his shoulder. "What were you buildin' today?"
"Oh, nothing too important. Just some cabinet doors," he told her. "I'm waitin' on a shipment o' boards before I begin work on the upstairs flooring."
"The lad managed t' get four cabinet doors whipped up in less than two hours," Bifur told them, sounding impressed. "An' that's with forgetting his planer here! I don't think I've ever seen someone get wood that smooth without a plane."
Will's cheeks turned a bit pink and he smiled sheepishly. "Bifur's exaggerating. I'm sure it took me longer than two hours."
Bofur shook his head, wearing a large smile. "Don't be humble, lad—you're quite fast with those chisels o' yours."
Rán looked up at him. "So you are a carpenter, then?"
"A woodworker in general," Will told him. "I've been helpin' these two renovate their shop."
He nodded in understanding. "What sort of shop, if you do not mind my asking?"
"A toy shop," the cousins replied in unison.
"We'll be the first one in Dale, which used t' be renowned throughout Middle Earth for its toys," Bofur explained, looking up at the half-dwarf. "So we're hopin' some competition comes along soon to help bring back its reputation." His brow rose ever so slightly; Rán kept stealing quick glances at Baylee, which, for some reason, made his stomach lurch slightly.
Rán once again nodded. "I was not aware of Dale's historic reputation," he admitted, "but with how it is flourishing now, I am sure that reputation will return with your help."
As he spoke, Baylee leaned over slightly to look past her brother and the dwarves. Seeing a group of people walking towards the inn, she gave the males an apologetic look. "I see a group o' customers comin', so I best be headin' in now. Is there anythin' I can get you lads t' drink or eat…?"
"Some tea would be nice," Rán answered. "Preferably that berry one you served at breakfast."
"Cider, if you would, lass," Bifur told her. "An' maybe some bread an' cheese?
"Go ahead an' add extra bread an' cheese t' that plate," Bofur smiled. "An' I'll have an ale."
Reaching down, Will lightly ruffled his sister's hair, doing his best to not disturb her flower crown. "Don't worry about the ale an' cider, 'Lee, I'll handle those. You get the tea an' snacks."
Smiling, she nodded. "Alright. See you lads in a bit." Rather than heading in through the front door, she headed to the back of the courtyard, intending to enter through the kitchen.
Bofur looked up at Will as the group headed for the door. "So, how are we supposed t' get that window box actually on her window without her knowin'?"
His brow rising at the strange question, Rán opened the door for the others.
Thanking the ranger, Will headed into the inn. "There's a tree that grows below our windows. We climb up, I put you on my shoulders so you can put it in place," he said. "Or, we could do it the somewhat easier way an' get da' in on it. He can send her t' the market for a while so we can put it in."
"That second option sounds much safer," Bifur told him. "Call me old, but I'd rather the two o' you not accidentally topple t' your deaths just for some flowers."
Bofur snorted. "I'm sure it wouldn't be our deaths," he chuckled.
"Well…the tree is pretty tall," Will admitted. "So death is a possibility if we were t' fall. An', frankly, it's not really a chance I'm willing t' take." He watched as Rán walked over to the table where the rest of the rangers were already gathered.
Bifur shook his head, half sighing, half chuckling as Will went behind the bar. "Now you're talkin' sense, lad," he told him. "Now, if it had been left up t' my cousin here, he would have gladly chosen to use the tree method."
A small pout came to Bofur's face and he put his hands on his hips. "I'll have you know I was just joshin' about actually usin' the tree!"
"Mhm. Says the dwarrow who scaled a fifty-foot wall in order t' sneak a kiss from a lass," he reminded him.
Will's brows rose; he wasn't sure if he should laugh or remain awestruck. "You did what?" he gawked. He grabbed a set of three mugs, moving to fill them.
Bofur's cheeks turned bright red and he became flustered. "That was a long time ago, when I was only in my eighties," he stated. "…An' I may have been a wee bit intoxicated at the time."
Bifur shook his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. "How you managed t' get back down without killing yourself is still beyond me…Mahal must've really been on your side that day."
"Aye, he must've—it would have been so easy for Kaia t' just give me a wee push an' down I would've went," Bofur chuckled, rubbing the side of his neck. "Though, I daresay puttin' in a window box while sober is a teensy bit safer." As he said 'teensy', he had held his fingers close together for emphasis.
Will wanted to ask him who Kaia was, but as he turned around to hand the dwarf his ale, he saw sadness in his eyes. The expression caught him very much off guard; he had never seen anything but happiness and amusement on him until then. 'She was obviously his love at some point,' he told himself, setting the mug down on the counter. 'But was she his lover, his wife, or just the object of his affections? But if she was any of those, why does Bofur seem to be flirting with Baylee? Dwarves only fall in love once…'
"Will, lad? You alright?"
He blinked, coming out of his thoughts to see Bifur and Bofur both looking at him with concern. His cheeks turned a bit red and he smiled sheepishly. "Aye, sorry. Got a wee bit lost in my thoughts there," he said. "What'd you say?"
"I asked when would be a good time t' bring the window box over," Bofur repeated. "Since it's all done an' the flowers are planted…"
"Good question." He wore a thoughtful expression as he turned to fill another mug. "Let's wait until the flowers bloom—it shouldn't be too long. A week or two, maybe. Also gives me time to come up with a good excuse to get Baylee out of here for a few hours."
Bofur nodded. "Sounds like a plan," he grinned. He glanced over at the kitchen in time to see Baylee come out with a platter containing a bowl of bread, a plate of cheese, a teapot, and a clay mug. A small smile came to his lips; she still wore the flower crown, which he thought made her look positively beautiful. Realizing he was staring, however, he pulled himself from his thoughts and grabbed the tankard of ale as Will held it out to him. "Thanks, lad," he chirped.
As he took a drink from the mug, he started to walk towards the usual table. 'Now don't you go staring at Miss Baylee like that, Bofur,' he scolded himself. 'Aye, she's beautiful, but that's no reason to be staring at her like Nori when he sees a shiny object…'
Warren looked up as there was a knock on his bedroom door. It was late—almost midnight—so he was more than a little surprised that someone was still up. "Come in," he called, marking the page in his book before setting it aside.
The door opened and Baylee poked her head in. "What're you still doing up, papa?" she questioned, concern on her face.
His brow rose and he chuckled. "I was just about t' ask you the same thing, little one." Turning in his chair, he faced her only to find that she was still fully dressed in her day clothes instead of her night clothes. "It's late, 'Lee. You should be in bed."
An apologetic smile came to her lips. "Wenna an' me lost track o' time as we cleaned up the common room," she explained. "We were talkin' with Rán and Aizik as we cleaned."
That made him frown and his eyes widened. "Wenna was still here at this hour!?"
She nodded. "Don't worry: Aizik walked her to her home t' make sure she got there safely. He's back an' up in his room now."
A relieved sigh left his mouth and he leaned back against his chair. "Good…For a moment, I thought you were going t' tell me that you had grabbed your sword and walked Wenna home yourself."
"As tempted as I was t' do that, I know better," she snorted. "But, speakin' o' swords…I wanted to ask you somethin', papa."
One again, his brow rose. "…I'm not sure I'm going t' like this."
"Oh, it's not that bad, papa," she frowned. "Uncle invited me t' go with him to—"
"No."
"You didn't even let me—"
"Because I know you were goin' to say 'Laketown'," he retorted. "Baylee, love, you know about those raider attacks. Do you honestly think I'm goin' to let you travel beyond the fields if there's even the slightest chance o' you getting attacked?"
"But we'll be traveling with Prince Fili—there's going t' be a lot more security with that group o' travelers than with a normal group o' merchants," she argued. "On top o' that, I know how t' fight."
"You haven't fought or sparred in years, 'Lee," he sternly reminded her. A sigh left his mouth and he rubbed his face in a mixture of tiredness and frustration; Baylee was stubborn and he knew she'd do anything to go on this trip. It had been a number of years since she last got to visit their family in Laketown, whereas he and Will had visited just last year.
After some minutes passed, a second sigh—this one of defeat—left his mouth. "I'll make a deal with you, 'Lee," he said. "I want you t' spar every day until you leave for the trip. Get the rust on your muscles ground away so you'll be in tiptop shape."
She nodded, a grin beginning to spread across her lips. "Easy enough. Auntie's been wantin' to spar lately an' I'm sure Will wouldn't mind bringin' out his flail once in a while."
"Also," he continued, "there's something I need you t' start doing."
At that, her grin faltered slightly; she had a feeling she knew what he was going to say. "…An' that is…?"
Warren gave her a knowing look. "I want you t' start lookin' for a beau."
Rolling her eyes, she slouched somewhat. "Da'," she groaned, drawing the word out. "You know—"
"Aye, I know you've tried lookin', but 'Lee: You an' Will will be turnin' thirty this year; most folk around your age are already married with families." He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "An' don't go thinking I'm picking on you because you're my daughter—I've been planning on giving Will this same sort o' talk." He let out a heavy sigh. "If it were up t' me, I'd let you two take your time, but…it's actually been your aunt who's been pressuring me t' pressure you two. An' you know how…well, frankly, annoyin' she can be in regards t' this subject."
At that, Baylee slouched a bit more and glanced away from Warren. "Oh. That explains it." As much as she loved her aunt, she knew full well that Demelza was a woman who wanted to keep up appearances. She and Éolynna had come from a poorer family, so when the inn started to bring in more money than expected and made them rise through the ranks of society, she wanted to make sure people knew they weren't poor.
And, annoyingly, that meant getting her and Will married off to (hopefully) wealthy families.
He nodded. "Yes…she scolded me the other day, actually. Reminded me how all her children are already married with families while the two o' you are still runnin' around, single as can be." He shook his head, sighing quietly. "You know…Bard still fancies you quite a bit."
She shook her head. "No."
"'Lee—"
"Papa, our lives are unsuited for courtin' now," she said, ignoring his protest. "He's a king—he has his royal duties he has t' attend to, which keep him fairly busy. An' I work here at the inn, so I'm busy a good portion o' the time." She then shrugged, hugging herself. "Anyway…If we did court an' if it progressed t' marriage, I wouldn't make a good queen."
Warren frowned at that. "And just what makes you think that, young lady?" he scolded.
She gave him a bland look. "No one wants a queen who can't read an' who doesn't even know the slightest bit 'bout how to be a queen."
"Do you think Bard knew how to be a king when he was crowned?" he questioned, brow raised.
"Papa…this is Bard we're talkin' about. O' course he knew how to be a king—his father an' his father's father made sure o' that."
His frown grew slightly; he knew she was right. Bard was a descendant of the last king of Dale, and his family made sure to instill the same values and knowledge in every child that was born into it on the off chance that they would someday rule again.
"Anyway…I'm fairly certain I don't have romantic feelings for him anymore," she continued with a sigh. "Aye, I still love him dearly, but as a friend. Bein' around him doesn't make me all fluttery or giddy like it used to, so…aye, I don't think there's any romantic love for him left in my heart." She gave her father a half-hearted smile. "I'll find someone someday, papa. But I'm not goin' to go forcin' myself to marry someone just because auntie thinks I should have popped out half a dozen children by now. Whoever I end up marryin', I'm going to marry them for love."
Warren smiled at her words before holding his arm out, signaling that he wanted a hug. "You're such a stubborn lass, little one," he chuckled as she came over and hugged him. "I still want you t' keep your eye open for a potential lad, but you don't have t' actively seek one out."
"So I can go t' Laketown?"
"Aye, you can—but only if you spar every day like I said."
She grinned, giving him an extra squeeze. "Aye, I'll be sure t' do that."
Tousling her hair with his free hand, he smiled. "I know you will." He gave her a little squeeze before releasing her. "Now get t' bed, young lady. It's late."
Nodding, she headed for the door. As she reached the doorway, however, she paused and turned slightly. "…I have one more question before I go t' bed."
"Oh?"
"…What if I end up fallin' for a dwarf?" she asked. "I'm not sayin' I have, o' course, but…After gettin' to know the lads, I've been wonderin' lately if, maybe, I should start lookin' a little closer t' Erebor."
Warren was silent for a moment as he thought over her words. He knew dwarven culture far better than either of his children and knew that most dwarves were against the idea of marrying a non-dwarf. 'Then again,' he thought, 'that usually pertains to their dislike of elves. Lovisa's father was all too happy to have been married to a human woman…and I remember a few dwarrows who had taken humans spouses over in Ered Luin.' Stroking his beard, he leaned back in his seat, a contemplative look on his face. 'Male dwarrows do treat their lovers like royalty, so if Baylee did fall for one and one fell for her, I could rest assured that she would be well cared for…'
Baylee grew a bit concerned at her father's long silence. "Papa…? Is everything alright?"
He looked up, a smile on his lips. "Yes, everything's alright, little one," he assured her. "If ever you fell for a dwarrow an' he for you, then you best ready yourself t' be treated like a queen. Dwarrows spoil their lovers—to them, their lover is their world an' is more precious t' them than any jewel or bit o' mithril."
She chuckled, her brow rising somewhat; she doubted that dwarves spoiled their lovers that much. "Alright. I'll be sure t' keep that in mind if such a thing happens," she told him, smiling. "Goodnight, papa."
"Goodnight, little one."
Standing on his tiptoes, Will peeked over an unkempt garden wall, peering through the darkness to see if there was anyone on the other side. Seeing that there wasn't, he pushed open the gate before closing it again. As he came out from the shadow cast by the abandoned house, he was bathed in the light of a nearly-full moon.
'I hope she got my message,' he thought, moving to sit on the edge of an old fountain. 'And that she was able to find an opportunity to sneak away…' With a sigh, he laid down, his hands tucked behind his head as he looked up at the moon and stars. 'It's been awhile since either of us have managed to see each other. Not that either of us has really had time. Between the both of us working long days, we're just too tired most nights to sneak away…'
Closing his eyes, he let out a soft sigh. The night was a bit on the cold side, but with mid-spring quickly approaching, he knew it wouldn't be long before he would be wishing for this cooler weather. Dale didn't get nearly as warm as Laketown, but with all the festivals that happened during the summer, he knew he'd be working up a sweat while dancing.
With his eyes shut, he didn't see the figure approaching from the shadows, nor did he see the playful smile on her lips. She crept towards him, being sure to stay as quiet as possible so as to not alert him of her presence. Then, leaning over, she pressed her lips against his.
His body tensed up and his eyes shot open only to find the face of his love overtop him. Instantly, he relaxed and, grinning against her lips, reached a hand up to rest on her cheek.
"A lover's kiss has awoken the sleepin' beauty, I see," Adela quietly laughed. She pulled back slightly, allowing Will to sit upright.
"Ah, but I wasn't sleepin'," he smiled, watching as she tucked a gingery curl behind her ear. Once he was sitting up, he patted his lap for her to sit. "I'm glad you came. I've missed you."
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she carefully sat down on his lap before kissing his cheek. "I've missed you, too, love," she murmured. "How've you been? I've seen that the shop you're restorin' is comin' along nicely."
He grinned broadly, his arms wrapping around her in return. "Aye, it is! In fact, it'll be ready t' open in about two weeks." Using his nose to nuzzle her cheek, he felt a pleasant warmth spread through his chest as she giggled. "And I've been well. Mostly workin'…The night we had that storm, Bard came over with Sigrid, Bain, an' a whole group o' rangers from Dorwinion."
"Ooh, I've been hearin' about them! Primrose has been gushin' about how handsome the men are an' how lovely the women are."
"I suppose they're alright. I know most o' the womenfolk have been going into a tizzy over Rán, their leader, an' Nakara, his second-in-command. Not sure what the menfolk think o' Ashailyn, Kreine, an' Fifika, though. Bein' that I mostly talk with dwarves these days, they think the lasses don't have enough facial hair."
Adela giggled again, her brow rising. "I'm sure if they're as lovely as I keep hearin', then even a dwarf might cave in."
Will shook his head, still wearing his grin. "Nah…Bofur an' Bifur have told me they find the lasses just 'decent'. However, there is one beardless lass that's seemed t' have caught a dwarf's eye." As he looked down at her, there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
Her eyes widened in surprise and her jaw fell a bit slack. "One o' the dwarves fancies Baylee?" she gasped. When Will nodded, she also grinned. "Ooh, which one? The younger one—Ori, I think you said his name was?"
"Aye, Ori's his name, but he's not the one," he chuckled. "Bofur's the one startin' to fancy her—at least, I'm pretty sure he's startin' to fancy her."
"Bofur…which one is he again?"
"The one with the hat."
"Oh! Him! I've seen him around town a few times while I was out runnin' errands. I've always thought he was adorable."
Will couldn't help but snort. "Sorry," he told her, "but hearin' someone call him adorable is a wee bit hilarious t' me." Tilting his head, he kissed her temple.
"Well, 'adorable' also isn't a word you hear used very often t' describe a dwarf in general," she smiled. Closing her eyes, she nestled her head into the crook of his neck. "If anythin' happens between him and your sister, I think they'd make for a sweet couple. He looks like the sort who'd be a complete and utter sweetheart—like you, only fuzzier."
Despite rolling his eyes, he smiled as well. "I think they'd be a perfect couple…Bofur's managed t' make her laugh so hard, she nearly toppled over an' vice versa." A content sigh left his mouth as he let his fingers start to run through her curls. "How've you been, by the way?"
"Mmm…Let's not talk about that." Her tone had gone from content to a bit depressed.
He frowned. "I take it your dad's still bein' an arse?"
"When isn't he?" she sighed, knowing that it would be impossible to avoid the subject. "Mum finally divorced him a week or so ago. An' as soon as it was finalized, she was out o' there. But because she's gone, I've been havin' to do nearly double the work, since the lass dad hired t' take her place is still fairly new t' the job."
"You should just leave, too, you know. He doesn't treat you right. He never has."
A quiet sigh left her mouth. "I can't do that, Will. You know I can't." Leaning back slightly, she kissed his cheek before slipping off his lap. "At this point, I'm all he has anymore. Mum's family never liked him an' he has no family on his side…An' he already disowned Ned. I know the situation isn't ideal, but…" Standing up, she hopped up onto the fountain wall and started to follow the narrow path; she had to hold part of her dress up in order to see where she was putting her feet.
"That doesn't mean you have t' stay, love," he told her, standing up as well. He followed along behind her, wanting to catch her in case she lost her balance; it was also, admittedly, a good chance for him to steal some long looks at her ample curves. "Just because he's your father doesn't mean a thing. If he's not treatin' you right, you shouldn't stay there."
"He's not always bad, you know," she sighed. "It's only when he's stressed…or when he's been drinkin' with his friends. An' it's not like he's ever physically mean. It's always just words."
He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "Doesn't matter t' me. That's not how a man's supposed t' treat his family. It's his job t' love an' protect them—not t' yell at them an' berate them when he's drunk."
Adela glanced over her shoulder at him, a small smile on her lips. "Which is why, someday, you're goin' t' be an excellent father t' our children," she told him. "You were raised by a good man." She held out her hand, letting Will take hold of it before hopping down off the ledge. A teasing smile spread across her lips as she saw how dark his cheeks had grown. "Why are you blushing so hard, love?"
"N-No reason," he said, glancing away. "I…I guess the thought o' us having children someday kind o' took me a wee bit by surprise." His eyes widened and he was pulled down slightly as Adela wrapped her arms around his neck.
She gently rubbed the tip of her nose against his. "I'll have no other man father my future children," she told him, her voice soft. Cupping the scarred half of his face, she let her thumb gently stroke the skin. "I've loved you for a very long time, William Braddock, an' I have every intention of becomin' your wife an' spending the rest o' our days together." She could feel the heat growing more intense in his cheeks, which only made her smile more.
"I love you, too," he quietly chuckled, tilting his head down so that his forehead rested against hers. "An' I promise you, Adela Stove, that I'll soon whisk you away from that inn an' make you my wife."