"A little t' the left—a little more—Aye! Right here!"

Bofur grunted as he, Bifur, and Will set the bathtub down on the bed of a cart. The cousins had decided to keep the tub instead of getting a new one, but not in the condition it was in. As such, they were sending it off to Erebor to be shortened and refinished.

Will panted, using his forearm to wipe some sweat from his forehead. "I never knew a copper tub t' be that heavy," he said.

Bifur knocked against the metal with his knuckle. "That's because this is just copper plated," he sighed. "My guess is the thing's actually cast iron, but was plated with the copper t' keep the bathwater from rustin' the iron."

"Why make a bathtub out o' cast iron only to cover it with copper?" He reached a hand out, helping Bifur down from the cart. "That doesn't make much sense t' me."

"Iron holds heat better than copper, so my guess is that they did it t' take longer baths," Bofur chuckled. "We already knew this placed belonged t' a wealthier family, so they could afford the luxury o' lazing about in the tub." Shaking his head, he hopped off of the cart as well. "I don't think either o' us is going to be doin' much o' that, but I can see it being a nice perk come winter."

Bifur let out a laugh, his brow rising somewhat. "Aye, that'd be a nice thing in winter…Until we need t' get out o' the bath an' end up freezing our arses off." He watched as Bofur walked around to the front of the cart, where both their ponies stood, harnessed and ready to go. "Don't forget t' stop by the mansion t' grab our toymakin' supplies."

Bofur nodded. "No worries, cousin. I'll do my best to get back before midafternoon, but you know how our badgers are."

"Badgers?" Will questioned.

"It's what we call Bombur's children," Bifur explained. "I'm…not really sure I remember how the nickname came about, but it's stuck."

"You'd think we call them our wee squirrels, since every one o' them has red hair, but 'wee squirrels' just doesn't have the same ring to it as 'wee badgers'," Bofur laughed. He then crawled up into the driver's seat of the cart. "I'll see you lads later today. Try not t' get into too much trouble while I'm off!"

Will rolled his eyes, though he wore a grin. "Oh, aye. I'll be sure t' paint the town red as I measure an' draw up plans for those shelves."

"An' I'll get into a lot more trouble when I let the roofers in t' retile the roof," Bifur snorted. "You, though. You best have an absolutely borin' time. Give all the badgers a hug for me an' give Bombur an' Gerdi my love, by the way."

"Will do," Bofur chirped, pulling his pipe out from under his vest. With a small flick of the reins, the ponies started off down the road.

As the two watched Bofur head down the hill, Bifur shook his head. "Ten silver says he gets distracted somehow an' doesn't come back until dinner."

"Now that's an unfair wager, given that you know him better than me," Will laughed. Turning, he moved to head back inside the shop-in-progress. "But it does sound like somethin' he'd do." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a length of leather cord. It had three marks embossed into it, each one exactly twelve inches apart from the other. Going over to the far wall, he started to measure from the floor to the ceiling.

Bifur would have offered to fetch him something to write the measurements down on, but he and Bofur had quickly come to learn that Will could remember numbers just as well as his older sister could remember meal orders. Instead, he moved to head upstairs, wanting to double check where the leaky parts of the roof had been. Every time he walked up the staircase, he found himself amazed that it was still in such good condition; Will had said that he didn't even need to refinish it—it just needed a bit of polish on the handrail and it would be like brand new.

By the time he returned to the first floor, Will was in the kitchen, using a length of thin, straight metal to draw line on a large sheet of paper.

"…I'll use mortise and tenon joints on this one," he was murmuring to himself. "Dado joints for the shelves would be easiest, too…just slide them in and out…" All the while, he continued to draw lines on the paper.

As Bifur got closer, he could see that Will already had nearly a complete shelf design drawn out. It was the first time he actually saw him drawing out the plans rather than reading them off of a set of already-made blueprints. Not wanting to interrupt him in his drawing, he instead moved to grab a broom before heading into the front of the shop. There wasn't much for him to do, after all, since the rest of the work that needed done required professionals.

It was nearing noon when the there was a knock on the door. Upon opening it, he found four men standing on the other side; behind them was a cart filled with bright-red rooftiles, wood, and the tools they would need. He led them upstairs, where he first showed them where the leaks in the roof were located before showing them the door up to the roof.

"How do you think these look?" Will asked when Bifur entered the kitchen once again. He had five different sets of blueprints laid out, each one showing a different kind of shelving unit design. "I know, ultimately, we'll need t' wait for Bofur t' get back before any designs are given the final approval, but a bit o' feedback would be nice."

Bifur's brow rose as he picked up one of the pieces of paper. He had been drawn to it because the shelving unit, unlike the others, was designed to look like the trunk of a tree. It would be carved out of a single, large log and hollowed out to make the shelves. "I don't think I've seen somethin' like this before," he commented.

Will's cheeks turned a bit red; he couldn't tell if that was meant in a good way or a bad way. "Aye…It was a bit random, but I remembered how Ori's mural design had a set o' trees in it. I thought it'd be kind o' neat t' have the trees' trunks be a display unit an' all the limbs are painted on the wall behind them." A wave of relief washed over him as Bifur smiled.

"I like it. It's touch o' the whimsical that Bofur an' me are hopin' to achieve with the shop," said Bifur. "An' I'm sure Bofur will end up lovin' it, too—he really wants this place t' be whimsical an' fun." He set the design down in favor of picking up another one; this once was much more plain, but Will had made notes about carving animals into the edges of the shelves.

"Well, it is a toyshop," he chuckled. "It'd be a bit strange if it looked like just a plain shop." He put one hand on his hip while the other ran over his hair. "You two are lucky you have so many 'wee badgers'. I don't think I would have been able t' come up with these concepts on my own. I got so used t' doing small repair work—it's been years since I actually got t' design things."

Bifur smiled up at him. "Once this shop opens up an' everyone sees the work you've done, I'm sure you'll be gettin' more orders for customized furniture than you can handle," he assured him.

Will let out a small laugh, his brow rising. "Ah, I can only hope. But even if they don't, at least I'll have done enough woodworkin' by then to keep me satiated for a while."

"If anythin', all this gives you practice for when you've found yourself a lass and have bairns of your own," Bifur lightly teased.

His cheeks turned red once again, but he smiled. "That might take a while t' happen," he said. "I've got my eye on a lass an' she has her eye on me, but her father an' my father don't exactly…like each other."

"Which translates t' they want t' kill each other?"

"Pretty much." He rubbed the side of his next. "His name's Mannus Stover. He runs the Tankard's top rival, The Flyin' Hen…Before me an' Baylee were born, Mannus was constantly tryin' t' win our mum from da'—he was obsessed with her. The git even tried to woo her after we were born an' she an' da' were married." He shook his head.

Bifur's nose scrunched up. "He doesn't sound like a pleasant man."

"He's not. He's downright rotten." A heavy sigh left his mouth and he crossed his arms over his chest. "What doesn't help is that Baylee looks damn near identical t' our mum—the only difference is mum was a foot taller an' blonde. Because o' that, we make sure she rarely has any errands over in that part o' town. We don't want the git tryin' anything with her."

He frowned. "Something tells me that, if he ever did try anythin', he'd quickly regret it."

His words made Will smile. "Aye, he would—an' not because o' me an' da'. Baylee can be quite feisty when she needs t' be an' she knows how t' fight. She'd knock him upside the head an' then start yelling at him in the middle o' the street, I'm sure." He shook his head again, chuckling. "But still. It's safest if we just keep her away from that part o' town."

Bifur nodded slowly, his brow raised. "…Your sister knows how t' fight? As in brawling or usin' weapons?"

"Weapons." Will's cheeks turned a bit red and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Mum an' auntie were shieldmaidens o' Rohan an' da'—well, he's a smith, so he has t' know how t' use the weapons he makes. Oh, an' Lovisa is a ranger. Between the four o' them, me, 'Lee, an' our cousins all know how t' fight."

"That makes sense…I know most human cultures frown upon havin' their women know how t' fight, but the Rohirrim don't seem to have as much o' a problem with that." He set the second set of blueprints down and sighed. "Can I ask you somethin' a bit personal, lad?"

A knowing look came to Will's face. "You want t' know what happened t' our mum."

Bifur felt his cheeks begin to burn. "…Aye. I do hate t' ask it o' you, an' I know it's really none o' my business, but ever since we learned that she's not among the livin' anymore, Bofur, Ori, an' me have all been a bit curious." He was unaware that Ori already knew how Éolynna had died, as the younger dwarf had kept it to himself.

Will shrugged, turning around to lean against the table. "I know it would have come up sooner or later," he admitted. "Mum died in the Battle o' Five Armies. She was the only woman t' fall in that battle. Her, auntie, 'Lee, Lovisa, an' our cousins were defendin' the great hall, where Bard had sent the women, children, an' those unable to fight to hide. Because o' them, the orcs didn't even get close t' the door."

Bifur's eyes widened slightly; he remembered hearing about a group of human females who had fought in the battle, but he would have never expected that Baylee was one of them. "Wait—those were your family members?"

"Aye. I know it's a wee bit hard t' picture 'Lee fighting, but fight she did." He gave Bifur a halfhearted smile. "Which is why I'm glad you asked me an' not her 'bout mum. 'Lee's memory is so good that she can remember things in perfect detail—an' that includes our mum's death."

He cringed. "I take it tha' she didn't die cleanly…?"

He shook his head. "No. To make matters worse, Baylee was right there when it happened." He shuddered at the memory; though he had been fighting in another part of the city, he still swore to that day that he had heard his sister's anguished scream. A sigh left his mouth. "Ah…If you end up tellin' the others, could you also make sure t' tell them not t' bring any o' this up with da' or 'Lee? They're both still very…sensitive 'bout the topic."

"O' course, lad. I know the feelin' all too well," Bifur said. "Though, the other day, I was an idiot an' made the mistake o' accidentally bringin' up Bofur's late fiancée." He winced at the memory.

Will cocked his head. "Is that who Kaia was?"

"Aye. She was killed in a warg attack," he explained. "Died right in Bofur's arms…four days before their weddin'." He watched as Will winced. "Took him damn near two decades to be able to just hear her name without breaking down."

"That's a shame," he murmured, his brows furrowed. "An' here I was goin' to ask if he ever planned on havin' badgers o' his own. Guess I know the answer now."

Bifur cleared his throat. "Well, that has yet t' be determined," he said. "Sometimes, Mahal sees fit t' rebuild our hearts for another—what we dwarves call a Second Chance. An' I think Bofur may be one o' those lucky few."

Will's brow slowly began to rise. "…You think Bofur's fallin' for someone?" he asked cautiously.

"I think he might be, though with Bofur, it's hard t' tell until he's fallen hard enough that he can't get back up." He then glanced up at the human, a curious look on his face. "Why? Have you noticed him bein' any different?"

"Not so much acting different, no…but I have been noticin' how he sometimes looks at my big sister with a bit o' a dopey smile." There was a broad grin on his lips, which took Bifur by surprise—normally, brothers weren't very happy when they discovered someone was crushing on their sister. Especially when their sister was human and the person crushing on them was a dwarf. "An' I did hear him call her the prettiest sunflower he ever did see at one point."

"I think you're the first lad I've ever met who's happy t' learn that someone has a crush on his sister," Bifur chuckled, his brow cocked.

"My sister deserves someone who loves her an' who makes her smile," he said. "And I know enough about you dwarves to know that, if you start crushing on someone, there's no going back—that person owns their heart for the rest o' their lives. So, if Bofur is starting t' fall for Baylee…I know she'll be well taken care of."

"Bring your shield up higher!"

"Don't shuffle your feet like that."

"You're leaving yourself too open when you attack."

There was a loud thud and Baylee grunted as she fell backwards. Feeling dull metal lightly press against her throat, she scrunched her nose up and looked up, finding her aunt standing above her. She had a pair of axes in hand, a gambeson covering her torso, and a helmet atop her head. Her brow was raised as she looked down at her niece.

"You really are rusty, lass," she said. Holstering her axes, she reached down and helped Baylee to her feet, who then set her shield down on the ground. "How long has it been since you last had a proper sparring session?"

Thankful her cheeks were already red from exertion, she glanced at Demelza. "A couple o' years at least." She wiped some sweat from her forehead with one hand, while she rested her weight on her sword hilt with the other. Like her aunt, she wore a gambeson and a helmet as protection; the weapons were dull, yes, but they could still hurt when they hit their targets.

A sigh left her aunt's mouth. "I should have known when I saw the layer o' dust that had accumulated on that scabbard." Shaking her head, she crossed her arms over her chest. "It's a good thing your da' is having you train up before that trip." She then cocked her brow. "You ready for round three?"

"Not really, but I know that doesn't matter," she said with a small chuckle. Grabbing her shield once more, she slid it into place over her forearm. Then, grabbing her sword, she walked a few paces from Demelza before taking on a defensive stance. She watched as her aunt unholstered her axes and started to also take up a defensive stance—

Without warning, Demelza lunged forward. Baylee brought up her shield, blocking one of the axes while she used her sword to parry the other. She hopped to the side as her aunt swung at her again and thrust her shield forward into her, knocking Demelza off balance. Bringing her sword around, she thwacked her aunt in the side with the flat of the blade. Being a seasoned warrior, however, Demelza was able to quickly recover her footing.

Hooking the beard of her axe on the edge of Baylee's shield, she yanked her forward. At least, that's what she tried to do. The second she had seen the axe coming, Baylee let go of the grip and let her arm slide through the strap. The shield landed with a clatter on the ground and she backed up a few paces.

"A bad idea, sweetie," Demelza told her, her tone scolding. "You're very vulnerable now." As she spoke, she rushed at her niece.

"It was too heavy for me anyway." Holding her sword with both hands now, she started blocking blows from her aunt. Whenever she thought she could get in a counter, she took it, but Demelza was able to block most of them.

Then, Baylee managed to wedge her sword under one of the axe beards and, with a sharp tug, brought the axe out of her aunt's hand. Before it hit the ground, she reached out with her foot and was able to kick it upwards, allowing her to grab it. Demelza looked mildly impressed as she now took on the defense.

"That was tricky o' you," she grinned, starting to circle around Baylee in an effort to get to the fallen shield.

"I saw papa do it once to you," Baylee replied, also grinning. As her aunt tried to circle her, she leapt forward, swinging her sword with the intent of using it as a feint.

But Demelza threw herself sideways, onto the ground. She rolled a few feet away before popping up again—right next to the shield. Grabbing it, she charged at her niece.

Baylee twirled out of the way just in time to avoid being bashed with the shield. As she spun, she brought the back of the ax down against the back of Demelza's hip. Her aunt grunted, though she knew it wasn't in pain.

Aunt and niece continued to dance around one another, exchanging blows and parrying when they could. It was this spectacle that greeted Bofur as he returned to the inn with his and Bifur's ponies. His eyes widened in shock as he saw the two women battling.

Never in a hundred years would he have expected to see Baylee in armor, let alone fighting.

"You're back earlier than I was expectin'." He looked up to see Peter walking towards him.

"I thought I'd bring the ponies back before headin' to the shop," he explained, watching the women again. "Wh-what's going on?"

"Ah, just Baylee an' Demelza sparring," Peter said with a small shrug. "Once in a while, they'll dust off their weapons and fight one another. Sometimes it's Demelza an' Baylee, other times it's Will an' Demelza or Will an' Warren…Doesn't happen often, but the matches can be fun t' watch."

Bofur frowned slightly. "I figured she knew how t' fight a wee bit, but I didn't expect her t' actually be any good with a weapon."

Nodding in understanding, Peter chuckled. "T' be honest, I didn't expect it either. She's such a small lass an' she's so sweet an' cute, it's hard t' picture her in any sort o' battle, even though she's right there in armor." He crossed his arms over his chest, watching as Baylee half ducked, half spun out of the way as Demelza brought her ax down.

Bofur nodded, feeling a strange lurch in his gut as Peter called Baylee 'cute'; for some reason, it just didn't sit well with him. He shrugged it off, however, telling himself it was nothing.

The two watched as Baylee sidestepped to avoid being hit by Demelza's attempt at a shield bash. It had been a feint, however, and Demelza used the distraction to sweep Baylee's feet out from underneath her. She fell to the ground with a curse, feeling the wind get momentarily knocked from her lungs.

"That's three losses in a row for you, sweetie," Demelza said, holding her axe to Baylee's throat. With an almost disappointed sigh, she holstered the weapon and helped her niece up once more. "You didn't do too bad, though. You clearly still remember how t' fight—it's just gettin' you back into fightin' shape." She gave her a small smile as she took her other axe back.

Unlike her aunt, who was hardly breathing any heavier than at the start of the match, Baylee was panting and her lungs burned slightly. "Good thing—good thing that trip's 'bout a month an' a half away, then," she wheezed, leaning forward to rest her hands against her thighs.

"Aye. That'll be plenty o' time to get you back in shape." Looking up, Demelza saw Peter leading two ponies into the barn and Bofur walking towards them. "Looks like we had a small audience." She set the shield down against Baylee's leg so she would remember to grab it instead of accidentally leaving it in the middle of the courtyard.

Baylee felt her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment and was once again thankful that they were already red. Lifting her head, she saw Bofur as well, though Peter was already back in the stables. She managed to give him a small smile.

"That was quite the show," he chuckled, coming to a halt a few feet from them. "Not one I was at all expectin' t' see, but it was it was entertainin' to say the least"

"We're working on getting Baylee back into fighting shape," Demelza explained. As she spoke, she undid the buckle of her helmet before pulling it off her head. Shaking her hair free, she let out a small sigh of relief; her helmet had encompassed almost the entirety of her head with the only open part being over her mouth and the eyeholes. Because of that, it had grown quite warm under the metal and its padding. "She'll be joinin' my husband and the others when they go down t' Laketown. But Warren gave her the stipulation that she has t' have sparrin' lessons every day from now until then."

"I'm really out o' practice," Baylee breathlessly chuckled. She wasn't sure why, but she felt almost embarrassed that Bofur had seen her fighting. It confused her a bit—she didn't used to be self-conscious about fighting, as much as she disliked it.

"Out o' practice or not, it was still fun to watch," he told her with a smile. Admittedly, he had been a bit worried for her safety; despite the precautions she and Demelza were taking, her aunt had not been going easy on her. 'Which is understandable,' he thought. 'If she were a beginner, Demelza would probably have gone a bit easier, but since she's trying to get Baylee back into shape…Regardless, she should have gone a bit easier on the poor lass.'

Standing upright, Baylee sheathed her sword and unbuckled the strap of her helmet. Unlike her aunt, her helmet was very much in the style of Dale and Laketown: The metal only covered the top of her head while a leather aventail lined with chainmail protected her neck. She stuck her tongue out as she pulled it off her head before bringing her forearm across her forehead.

Demelza patted her on the back. "Go ahead and take a breather before you come in, sweetie," she gently told her. "It's a while yet until the dinner rush will start anyway."

Nodding, Baylee gave her aunt a small smile and watched as she walked away. "I wish she'd go a wee bit easier on me," she sighed once Demelza was out of hearing range.

Bofur gave her a pitying look. "I thought it looked like she wasn't goin' very easy on you," he agreed. He took the helmet from her so she could take off the gambeson.

"Aye…Her thinkin' is that, since I already know how t' fight, the best way t' get me back into shape is t' not go easy on me," she explained, starting to undo the laces of the padded garment. "But, even when I was first learnin', she didn't go terribly easy on me—or Will or our cousins."

"On the one hand, I can understand that, but on the other…Well…" He rubbed the side of his neck and chuckled somewhat awkwardly. "Let's just say I could tell she left you some nasty bruises."

At that, she snorted. "If you thought that round looked painful, be glad you weren't here for the first two." She pointed at a large dent on her helmet. "That wasn't there an hour ago."

His eyes widened slightly in horror; he did not enjoy knowing her aunt could strike that hard—not at all. "Wh-why is your aunt so hardcore when it comes t' fighting? She does know she's not tryin' to kill you, aye?"

"Auntie's always been this way," she told him. "At least, when it comes t' fighting. With other things, she's far more gentle, as I'm sure you've seen. Da' likes t' say it's because sparring is the one way she can vent out any stress or anger she's feeling without actually killin' someone." Getting the last set of laces undone, she pulled the gambeson off her body and let out a groan of relief. "Oh, that feels better…"

Taking the garment from her as well, he let her pick up the shield before he started to lead her over to the well so she could get a drink of water. As he sat her down on the well's wall, he saw her wince slightly; he knew she was going to horribly sore come morning. "Makes me wonder if, should Dale come under attack again, she could defend it all by her lonesome," he joked.

She breathlessly laughed as she leaned back against the support for the crank, letting the shield rest on the wall behind her. "Depends on how mad she is at the time," she joked back. "How was your trip t' Erebor, by the way?" She watched as he set her armor on the wall beside her before beginning to turn the crank. Normally, she would have argued against him doing this, since she was fully capable of reeling up the water bucket on her own, but her body ached too much at the moment.

"Uneventful," he told her with a small smile. "Got the tub t' the smith as well as placed an order for the glass an' lead we'll need for the new windows. Then went an' dropped in to see my brother an' his family. All o' them pouted when they found out I didn't bring more of your bread."

Another laugh left her mouth and her brow rose. "Oh no…Should I start anticipatin' havin' to make extra whenever you or Bifur go back for a visit?" she teased.

He shrugged, a playful grin replacing the small smile. "Perhaps. Though, it's lot better than havin' them come t' Dale an' eat every single loaf you make for the day." Getting the bucket up, he set it on the wall before dipping the attached ladle into the cold water. "Because that's exactly what would happen if I told them how t' find this inn."

She laughed again as she took the ladle. Thanking him, she started to sip the water; it felt like ice as it slid down her throat and made a shiver run down her spine. "From what you an' the other lads have told me about them, I don't doubt that one bit. Something tells me that Bombur an' Gerdi would get along quite well with Galiene, however." She took a few more sips of the water. "So a visit from them wouldn't be entirely bad, I don't think."

"Aye, it wouldn't—especially since they make it a habit o' bringing gifts o' food with them when they visit folks. While they may eat up all your fruit bread an' any other desserts layin' around, they'll at least bring a small feast with them t' repay you." His grin widened as she snorted.

"That does sound like quite the fair trade," she giggled. "Especially since Ori an' Nori have praised their cookin' quite often."

Nodding in agreement, he hooked his thumbs through his beltloops. "You don't get t' be the royal cook for no reason, after all," he smiled. "Though, now that she's got Edda, Gerdi's more like the supervisor o' the royal kitchen."

"How is little Edda doin', by the way? Well, I hope?" She glanced over at him as she filled the ladle a second time.

"Oh, aye. The wee cutie is just a ball o' smiles! An' her older sisters utterly adore her. They're havin' t' keep a close eye on Sanna, though. She's only five and thinks o' Edda more as a doll than an actual baby." He lightly shook his head as he chuckled. "Luckily, though, Grid knows better. The only thing is that she keeps tryin' t' braid Edda's hair, but…she's not very good at braiding just yet, so it turns into a bit o' a mess."

Giggling, Baylee's brow rose. "Your nieces sound adorable."

"Aye, they are…but I'm also quite biased. Though, I have admit that your niece is a wee cutie, too. Mischievous little thing, she is."

"She certainly is—especially when her Uncle Will is tellin' her an' her brother where to find my stash o' hard candies." She giggled again and leaned her head back against the post.

"But despite her sugar rush, she was very still an' patient while I taught her how t' do that braid." Taking off his hat, he scratched the top of his head. "I don't think I've ever seen a child—human or dwarf—sit still that long to learn a braid o' all things."

"Admittedly, I was quite surprised by that, too—well, actually, I was more surprised that she wanted you t' teach her at all. She's a very shy thing an' it takes her a long while t' warm up to people she doesn't know."

"I guess her determination t' have upturned pigtails outweighed her shyness. Though, I'm surprised it wasn't Nori she went t' for braiding lessons."

Baylee snorted, remembering how Sigrid had called Nori 'pretty'. "I'm sure if she hadn't seen your hair, she would have. I remember her sayin' that he looked like a star an' that he was very pretty."

Bofur burst into a fit of laughter. "Did she really?" he laughed and, when Baylee nodded, he started to laugh harder. "Oh, Mahal help me—that's just too sweet!" After a moment, he managed to regain most of his composure. "Normally, Nori's the type who folk are a wee bit scared of." Reaching into his inner vest pocket, he pulled out his pipe and tobacco pouch. "You don't mind if I smoke, do you?"

"Feel free. An' really?" she asked, her head tilting somewhat. "He doesn't seem at all scary t' me. He seems a bit more reserved at times than the rest o' you, but not scary."

"Ah, you only think that because you haven't seen his bad side." Opening the tobacco pouch, he pulled out a pinch of the leaves and put them in the bowl of his pipe, using his thumb to tamp them down. "It doesn't show very often, thankfully, but when it does, he can be mighty scary." He added a few more leaves and tamped them down as well before holding the stem of his pipe between his teeth so he could light it.

"Sounds a bit like papa and Will." From where she sat, she could catch a small whiff of his tobacco; its cherry scent still surprised her. "I've only seen papa truly angry twice in my life. Will I've seen angry a handful o' times, but he wasn't half as scary as da' was."

At that, Bofur frowned and his brow rose. Warren definitely seemed the type of man who was slow to anger, which was good, given his sheer size. "I'm afraid t' ask, but what was it that set your da' off?" Getting a small flame on the leaves, he sucked in a few times to turn the flame into embers.

"Both times, it was the same man: Mannus Stover. He owns the Flying Hen over in the southern part o' the city; it's the biggest rival t' the Tankard. He an' papa also absolutely despise one another." Bofur couldn't help but find the fact that she still called Warren 'papa' endearing; most people grew out of that in their teens. "Mannus used t' be obsessed with my mum. He was always tryin' to woo her away from papa, despite him havin' a wife an' children o' his own already."

"Sounds like a right piece o' work, he does."

"Oh, he is…The first time I saw papa get angry, it was when Will an' I were still little enough t' be carried around. Mannus had dared t' grab mum's arm while she was carrying Will, which almost made her drop him." Such an early memory would have taken him by surprise, but then he remembered how well she could recall things. "I don't remember what all papa yelled at him, but I know it was enough to make the entire marketplace go silent."

His frown grew slightly. "If I had a spouse an' the same thing happened t' her, I would have done more than just yell at the git." As he spoke, smoke furled from his mouth. "Then again, we dwarves are fiercely protective o' our lovers."

"Papa came close t' killin' the git…but Mannus was friends with the old Master, so killin' him would have almost certainly resulted in papa's death, too, since the Master hated him." She shook her head and pushed some hair from her face.

Bofur's head tilted to the side. "Why did the Master hate him?"

Glad that he didn't ask about the second time she had seen her father angry, she brought a knee up onto the wall, wrapping her arms around it. "Because papa supported Bard's family. He always thought that it should have been them ruling the city an' not the Master. It also didn't help that papa's intelligent. There's so much he knew about the world that the Master didn't."

"So, basically, he was a threat t' the Master's rule?"

She nodded; as some of Bofur's smoke wafted towards her, the cherry scent grew stronger and she closed her eyes, enjoying the smell. "Aye…Though, there's no way papa would have challenged his rule. Now, if Bard had challenged his rule sooner, papa would have definitely been his right-hand man." She let out a soft laugh, though she could feel a familiar twitchiness beginning to grow in her fingertips. "Bard's been tryin' t' get him to be his advisor for the last eight years." With her eyes shut, she didn't see Bofur's brow rise.

"I would think bein' the advisor t' a king affords a person an' his family a better life than being an innkeeper. No offense meant, o' course!"

"None taken, because you're right. But papa enjoys havin' the inn. He gets t' be around people more. And…well, t' be honest, we're not exactly very low on both the monetary an' social ladders." She quietly laughed. "We may not seem like it, but thanks t' the Tankard, we're actually among the gentry."

"Doesn't surprise me at all, if I'm honest," he smiled. "This is a fairly popular inn, even durin' the down seasons. I can only imagine how packed it's goin' to be once summer an' autumn get here."

Opening her eyes again, she smiled. "Aye. We usually have t' hire on three or four more hosts an' bring in another cook." Glancing at the bowl of his pipe, she bit her lower lip slightly. "…This is goin' t' sound odd, but can I have a small puff o' your pipe?" Her cheeks reddened a bit as she asked.

He blinked, pausing for a few seconds as he was taken by surprise. Then, chuckling, he handed it over to her. "I didn't think you were the smokin' type, lass."

"I enjoy a pipe every once in a while—but I have t' sneak it." She took in a mouthful of the smoke before handing the pipe back. "Oh, that's good tobacco. Where did you get it? An' thank you, by the way."

"Dori's shop, actually," he answered, amused. "It's imported from the Shire; hobbits grow an'make some o' the best pipe weed out there." Taking in another mouthful himself, he leaned back once more. "Why do you have t' sneak your smokes?"

An innocent smile came to her lips. "Will an' papa don't think it's very ladylike o' me t' be smoking pipes. They think any potential suitors I may have will find it off puttin'."

Bofur snorted, his brow rising. "Well, maybe you should start searchin' for suitors in Erebor, lass. We dwarves would find it off puttin' if you didn't smoke," he joked. "An' they'd be a little bit closer t' you in height." He grinned broadly as she cracked up.

She was about to tell him how having a dwarven suitor would also guarantee she'd get to be the tall one for once when she saw movement towards the archway. Leaning over slightly, she looked past Bofur only to see the rangers riding into the courtyard. "Ah, looks like I better head in soon," she said instead. "With the rangers bein' back, I don't want t' leave Wenna by her lonesome."

"Why's that? She can't remember all their orders yet?" He looked back at Baylee as she slid off the wall.

"Well, there's that, too," she chuckled. "But the main reason is, despite her best efforts, she gets a wee bit flirty with them. Can't blame her too much—they are fairly handsome blokes. But she shouldn't be flirtin' while workin'."

Once more, Bofur felt his stomach lurch slightly as she called the rangers 'handsome' and it made him feel confused again. "I suppose they're alright," he said with a small shrug. "They're a bit too tall for my tastes, though."

She playfully rolled her eyes. "O' course they are," she chuckled. "Would you like me t' take a drink over t' your table…?" She picked up her gambeson, helmet, and shield.

"An ale would be lovely, lass, thank you," he told her. "I shouldn't be too much longer—only got a few more puffs left in this."

"Take your time," she assured him with a smile. "I promise I won't let anyone steal your ale." She adjusted the shield on her arm before heading for the door. Usually, she would have gone in through the kitchen, but since she was carrying some fairly bulky items, she headed for the front door instead. 'The last thing I want to do is to bump into Galiene or Gawen with the shield and make them cut or burn themselves,' she thought.

She was just about to walk up the steps when a voice behind her stop her. "Lady Baylee?" As she turned, she saw that Rán and Ashailyn were only a few yards from her. Rán wore a bit of a concerned expression while Ashailyn looked more amused than anything.

"Hello, Rán, Ashailyn," she said, giving them a friendly smile. "How did your patrols go?"

"Uneventful," Ashailyn replied, "which is good. It is a nice change from what we are used to in Dorwinion."

"May I ask as to why you look almost as if you have just returned from battle?" Rán asked.

"My aunt an' me were sparring a little bit ago," she explained.

Ashailyn's brows rose slightly. "You fight, my lady?" she questioned. "No offense, but you do not have the appearance of a fighter."

"That's because I'm not. Aye, I know how t' fight, but I much prefer t' stay away from that kind o' conflict," she replied with a small chuckle. "I'm much more suited t' servin' people food an' drinks. Thank you, Rán." He had walked past her and opened the door, holding it for the two women. As such, they walked past him into the building.

As he let the door close behind them, Rán looked over the shield Baylee carried. It was dark green in color with a pair of white horse heads on either side of the bronze boss. The wood and paint were chipped from the many battles it had seen, but it still seemed to be in good condition. "I still would not have expected a woman of your status to know how to fight," he admitted. "Not that it is a bad thing, of course—knowing how to defend oneself from potential enemies is always a good thing."

"There's a lot o' warriors in my family," Baylee chuckled. "They wanted t' make sure Will, me, an' our cousins could protect ourselves." She set the shield and armor on the bar before going behind it and grabbing a tankard. "Can I get either o' you something to drink?"

"A cider for both of us, please," Ashailyn said. "Do you know only how to use a sword or are there other weapons you can wield?"

As she started to fill the tankard with ale, she glanced over her shoulder. "I'm alright with axes an' spears, but absolutely crap with bows. I'd like t' be able t' use a morning star or a hammer, but that'll never happen." Looking back at the tankard, she started to taper the flow of ale until she had the tap closed. She set it aside and grabbed two more mugs for the ciders.

Rán couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image of a small thing like her using either a mace or a war hammer. "Yes…I am afraid you would need to become part dwarf or grow a few feet if you wished to use either of those with ease."

"And neither o' those is happening any time soon," she laughed. With one mug full of cider, she set it on the counter; Rán motioned for his sister to take it. "But that's fine with me. As I said, I much prefer servin' food and drinks to people." She started to fill the other mug with cider.

"Well, you are quite good at it," Rán complimented.

Ashailyn nodded in agreement. "I do not think I have ever seen a person remember such large orders of food without forgetting at least one thing."

Baylee lightly shrugged as she closed the tap and turned around. "I've a strange memory," she told them. As she handed the tankard off to Rán, she glanced at the door only to find Bofur coming in. "Bofur!"

He looked over in time to see her hold out a tankard in his direction. Grinning, he walked over and took it from her. "Ah, thank you, lass!"

"You're welcome," she smiled, her cheeks ever so slightly pink. As he had taken the mug from her, his fingers had brushed against hers. "Would you like anythin' else? Maybe a snack?"

"No, no thank you," he replied. "Bombur made sure t' fill me full o' food before I came back here."

"Alright then. If you change your mind, just let me know."

"Will do, lass."

As he walked off, Baylee then turned back Rán and Ashailyn. "Is there anythin' I can get either o' you? Or maybe I can prepare some snacks for the others?"

"Bread and cheese sounds quite good about now," Ashailyn said. "The whole table will take some of those."

"And, perhaps, some of that fruit bread if there is any left?" Rán added with a small, hopeful smile. Inwardly, though, he felt off; he had seen her cheeks turn a bit pink when she handed Bofur his drink and it had made him feel a strong pang of jealousy.

Nodding, she smiled. "Aye, there should be plenty o' that left. Anything else?"

"It is not food related, but Hunil, Nakara, and Fifika will be needing baths before dinner if possible," Rán said.

Ashailyn grimaced. "Ah, yes…they may have gotten themselves into quite the dirty mess."

Baylee cocked her head. "Oh?"

"When we broke for lunch, they had a small, three-way wrestling match," Rán explained, "and…well, they tumbled down a hill into a mud pit."

"Ooh…aye, that sounds quite messy." She chuckled quietly. "They have spare clothing, aye? I ask because the day after tomorrow is laundry day an' it'd be a shame if they had t' wear dirty clothes until then."

"There are laundresses in Dale?" asked Ashailyn, her brows furrowed somewhat in confusion. "I was not aware of this."

"No, there are no laundresses. The inn staff have a laundry day for guests every two weeks," Rán explained. "Miss Wenna told me about it the other day," he then said to Baylee when he saw her surprised expression.

"Ahh, that explains it," she said with a small laugh. She glanced over at the door again as the other rangers started to walk in. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I'll go get the breads an' cheese ready for you lot."

Rán gave her a small nod, watching as she headed off to the kitchen. Feeling his sister nudge him with her elbow, his brows furrowed somewhat in confusion. "What?" he asked, speaking in their native language.

"Careful, Rán," she grinned, her brow cocked. "You're starting to fall for the little hostess."

His cheeks grew a bit warm. "And what makes you say that?"

"Plenty of things." She took a drink of her cider and started to lead him over to their usual table. "You find her attractive; you find any excuse to speak with her; and you get jealous whenever that dwarf—" She nodded at Bofur, "—makes her blush…You're falling for her and I think you're falling hard."

Cheeks growing a bit warmer, he followed her. "Even if I am falling for her, what does it matter?"

"What does it matter?!" She laughed as she sat down. "Really, Rán? You're going to ask that sort of question when you already know the answer?" Shaking her head, she let out an amused sigh. "You need to start trying to win her heart before that dwarf does. He's already got a head start—you've got some catching up to do."

He grumbled quietly as he climbed onto his stool. Not wanting to acknowledge his sister's words, he remained silent and took a drink of his cider. From the corner of his eye, however, he glanced over at Bofur.

Ashailyn was right, though: He did have some catching up to do.