A/N: Super early update because I finished editing sooner than expected :p

"Are you sure I look alright?"

"Aye, lad, you look perfectly fine. Now stop your frettin'! If you put too much effort into your appearance, she'll think you're up t' something." Bifur shook his head as he brushed a bit of hair off Bofur's shoulders. His cousin was wearing somewhat nicer clothes than normal—still everyday ones, but they didn't have nearly as much wear and tear as his usual attire. They were also different in color, being that his tunic was a deep, royal blue and his shirt was charcoal grey instead of his normal shades of brown and mustard yellow. "Though, maybe you should leave your hat here."

Bofur frowned as he looked at him. "What's wrong with my hat?"

"It's a wee bit silly, don't you think?" Ori said from his bed, where he was busy darning a pair of socks for Bifur. "I mean, normally, it suits you quite well, but you're tryin' t' impress Baylee…"

Nori, who was leaning against the wall near the door, shook his head. "I say keep it. It's part o' his identity by this point, so tryin' t' separate it from him is what's silly." He then shrugged and chuckled. "An' you never know—she might actually think he's more attractive with it."

His cheeks turning red at Nori's words, Bofur unconsciously grabbed the ends of his pigtails and held them together, his thumbs running over the plaits. "Y-you really think she might find me attractive?"

"I don't know anyone who isn't physically attracted t' their partner, Bofur," Nori said, his voice bland. Opening the door a bit, he leaned out and tilted his head.

"B-But she's not my partner," Bofur argued.

"Yet." There was a mischievous grin on Nori's lips now.

"You need t' relax, Bofur," Ori then said. "It's not like you'll be tryin' t' ask her to marry you or something."

"Knowing Bofur, he'd do that by accident," Bifur chuckled. He gently pulled Bofur's braids out of his hands. "Ori's right, though. You do need t' calm down. An' grab a cloak—it looks like it may rain on the two o' you."

Bofur frowned. "Does it…?" He went over to the window and looked up at the sky. There were dark clouds rolling in from the south, though they were still quite a way off. "Hm. I hope it stays away long enough for us t' get into the mountain…" Then, looking down into the courtyard, he could see Peter leading his pony and Baylee's mare out of the stables; both were fully saddled and ready to go.

"I can hear Baylee, so I think it's about time you head back down, Bofur," Nori said as he leaned back into the room.

Going over to his bed, Bofur picked up his cloak and wrapped it around his shoulders, a nervous sigh leaving his mouth. "I hope everything goes well," he murmured, pinning it into place. He staggered forward as Bifur gave him a hearty thump on the back.

"Oh, stop your worryin'!" his cousin told him. "You don't have t' act any different than normal just because it'll only be the two o' you. Pretend it's just one o' your morning chats."

At that, Bofur's brow rose. "I'd rather not, since Rán decided t' butt his way into those," he said. He then shook his head. "No. This is goin' to be better than one o' those, since we'll have the whole day t' talk an' that ranger won't be there t' interrupt."

"Exactly," Nori chuckled, his brow rising. He pushed the door open and nodded towards the hallway. "Best get down there soon. Don't want to keep her waiting, after all."

Nodding, Bofur patted the various pouches hanging from his belt, making sure he had everything. He then felt the top of his head, finding that his hat was still in place. Now knowing that he had everything he needed, he took a deep breath and, after bidding his cousin and friends a good day, he left the room.

As he walked down the stairs, he was greeted by the sight of Baylee standing at the bar, balancing a tray atop her head. Rosalyn was steadily placing more and more empty tankards on it as the shorter woman did her best to keep it balanced. His brow rose and he chuckled; so far, there were seven mugs on the tray with an eighth being placed.

Spotting the dwarf, Baylee smiled and gave him a small wave. "Give me just a few minutes, Bofur," she told him. "We've got a bet goin' on."

"Oh? Seein' how many tankards you can balance atop your noggin?" Walking over to the bar, he felt his cheeks grow the slightest bit warm; Baylee was wearing her brown dress and yellow overdress.

"I bet she could do fifteen," Primrose told him. "Rosalyn thinks she can only do ten, and Rosamunde says thirteen."

Rosamunde grinned as she passed another mug to her eldest sister. "We each have three silver at stake," she added, "so I'm really hopin' she gets that thirteen."

"The problem is," Baylee said, leaning slightly to the left, "that the tray is gettin' to be too full, so Rosalyn's goin' to have to start stackin' the mugs—then it becomes a double balancin' game: I need t' keep the tray balanced while she balances the mugs!" Her eyes looked upwards as she saw another tankard being handed over.

"Just be glad they aren't full o' drink," he teased. "We wouldn't want you t' spill beer an' ale all over that pretty dress o' yours."

She laughed, her cheeks turning a touch pink. "Aye, especially since it'd mean I'd have t' get changed all over aga—" The tray started to slip off her head and she quickly reached up, catching it.

"That was my fault," Rosalyn said with an apologetic frown. "I was trying to keep all the weight in the middle, but…"

"Well, there were ten tankards atop her head when she was forced to stop, so that means you get six silver," Primrose sighed. "Unless you were trying to cheat," she accused jokingly.

Rosalyn looked playfully offended. "Why, Primrose! Accusing your eldest sister o' cheating? Cheating's not very ladylike, after all!"

Baylee snorted, passing the tray off to Rosamunde so the sisters could put away the tankards. "I'll see you three later," she chuckled, grabbing her cloak and a basket from off the counter. "Don't get into too much trouble."

The trio of sisters smiled at her and bid her goodbye before getting back to their sisterly squabbling.

Bofur chuckled, his brow raised at the three of them. "Now that's somethin' you don't hear every day," he said, opening the door for Baylee. "Usin' the excuse that cheating isn't very ladylike."

"Aye, that's their excuse for gettin' out o' almost everything," she laughed. She thanked him as she stepped outside before pinning her cloak on. "An' it works most o' the time, too."

"Except when they use it on each other, it looks like," he smiled. As he glanced over at her, he could see that her basket was filled with something; he had expected it to be empty. "What do you have in the basket, lass?"

"Oh!" She smiled a bit sheepishly, her cheeks growing pinker. "I thought I'd bring a few loaves o' bread for your brother's family," she explained. As she walked over to Buttercup, she attached the basket to the saddlebag by lacing a buckle around its handle. "I hope that's alright."

He felt his insides grow a touch warm. "Aye, that's quite alright, lass," he assured her with a chuckle. He patted his pony's neck only to laugh as the little stallion started to rub his nose against his face. "Alright, Topaz, calm down you silly thing," he murmured, patting him atop the head now.

"His name's Topaz?" Baylee asked, a smile on her lips as well. She stole a peek over at Bofur; she had been surprised that he was wearing a color other than brown. 'But that blue looks quite handsome on him,' she thought. Forcing herself to look away, she reached up and grabbed her saddle before putting her foot in the stirrup.

"Aye. I thought it fittin', since his coat is kind o' a light brown in color." He looked over at her in time to see her easily lift herself up onto her saddle; rather than throw her leg over the side, though, she instead hooked it around the horn of her saddle so that she was sitting aside. He cocked his head, having never seen someone sit like that before. "…Why're you sitting like that, lass?"

"Because I'm wearin' a dress," she explained, taking a few minutes to get the fabric of her dress and overdress straightened out. "Most o' my dresses have enough fabric that I can ride astride while stayin' decent, but this one's a wee bit more fitted, so aside it is."

Part of him started to wonder why she had chosen to wear that dress if her others were better suited for riding. "Huh. I never knew that there was another way for sittin' on a horse." Chuckling, he pulled himself up onto Topaz's saddle. "Doesn't it hurt though? Since part o' the saddle is digging into the back o' your leg?"

She shook her head. "Not really, no. After three or four hours or some rough ridin', aye, it'll hurt, but I don't think I'll be doing any racin' today." As she looked down at Bofur and Topaz, she had to bite back a giggle; because Topaz was a good four or five hands shorter than Buttercup, the pair looked quite small. "Are you ready?"

Nodding, he looked up at her and felt his cheeks turn a bit pink. She looked so pretty, sitting on her mare like that…"Aye, I'm ready," he replied, grinning. He lightly kicked his heels against Topaz's sides and the pony started to walk towards the archway.

Buttercup followed alongside him, Baylee having made a clicking sound with her tongue. "I hope the rain holds off until we're in the mountain," she commented as she looked up at the sky. "I wouldn't want the bread gettin' soggy."

He looked up at the sky as well, thankful to see that the clouds seemed to be moving slowly. "Those clouds aren't movin' too fast, so we should have plenty o' time. Or, if they do reach us, we'll be close enough t' the mountain that we won't be in the rain too long." He gave her a reassuring smile. "Anyway, Bombur's family doesn't mind it if their bread's a wee bit soggy—it'd just turn into a puddin' at that point!"

"I'm not sure how tasty o' a pudding soda bread with currants would make when mixed with rainwater," she laughed, her brow rising.

"Ooh, soda bread with currants? It's been a long while since I've had some o' that. I might have t' steal some before we reach the mountain." A cheeky grin came to his face as he teasingly reached back for the basket. "I'm sure they won't miss one loaf, after all…"

"Don't you dare!" she laughed, leaning over to playfully smack his arm. "You'll have t' be patient an' wait for lunch t' roll around like a good dwarf."

He put on a playful pout. "Aw, but what if I get hungry on the way there? A few wee nibbles can't be too bad, aye?" As she continued to laugh, he felt rather proud that he was getting her to laugh so much when they were only a few dozen yards away from the inn.

"You had a big, hearty breakfast, so not even a nibble for you," she giggled. "An' I know Bifur an' Nori didn't steal any o' your food today, since you had eaten before they were even up!"

The cheeky grin returned to his face. "Aye, an' it was a delicious big, hearty breakfast," he told her. "I can only hope you made yourself one that was just as hearty."

"I wouldn't quite call it 'hearty', but I did have myself a good meal," she assured him. "I wanted t' make sure I'd have enough room t' eat some o' Bombur an' Gerdi's cookin' later, after all."

"Ahh, that's a good plan. You humans don't have as voracious of an appetite as we dwarves."

She tilted her head; that was a new word to her. "Voracious…? What does that mean?"

"It means wanting t' or bein' able t' eat lots an' lots of food."

"Ahh, that makes sense. An' it does describe you lot well enough—especially first thing in the mornin'."

"It's not good t' be workin' on an empty stomach. It'll start yellin' at you after an hour or so. But if you keep it well fed, you won't hear a complaint from it until you have t' use the privy."

Baylee snorted, having to cover her mouth due to how unladylike it was; Primrose and her sisters were already rubbing off on her and it had only been two days. Her cheeks turned pink when she realized she drawn some attention to herself from the people they were passing by. "My human stomach must be a bit tougher than yours then," she chuckled. "I've gone hours without eatin' breakfast an' my stomach never complained."

His brow rose slightly and he looked up at her. "I hope that's not somethin' that happens very often."

"No, not anymore, thankfully." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, guiding Buttercup around a corner. "In the early days o' being in Dale, though, it was common. But, I also had a lot more things t' do back then."

"Really? Like what?"

"Well, since this was when the inn was still under construction, I not only had my normal chores in the kitchen, but I also had t' make sure that I got the fires lit for the steamin' boxes an' for papa's forge. At the time, we had chickens an' a cow, so I had t' collect the eggs an' milk the cow an' then feed them, too. Sometimes, I'd have t' run over to the market in order t' get something we were out of…Basically, I had a lot o' stuff to do," she chuckled.

His head tilted slightly. "Steaming boxes? What were those for?"

"Woodworkers use them to steam boards to make them more flexible," she explained. "You could also leave the water out an' use them for dryin' wood, too. Will an' the other woodworkers had a constant rotation goin' when Dale was being rebuilt."

"Huh. That's interesting—I might have t' try steaming wood now. There are a few toys Bifur an' I make that involve bendin' pieces into place an' we're always a bit scared that we're goin' t' break them. Wonder if the lad would be willin' t' show us how t' build a steam box…"

"If the pieces are small enough, all you really need is a pot o' boilin' water, a couple o' sticks, an' a lid. Once the water's boiling, use the sticks t' hold the piece o' wood across the top an' then cover it with the lid. It's not quite as efficient as the boxes since a lot o' steam escapes between the pot an' lid, but if you're just doin' small things, it's fairly handy."

He nodded in understanding. "I suppose just boilin' the wood wouldn't work, though?"

"It might, but you'd have t' check with Will about that. For all I know, boilin' the wood would just turn it t' mush or something," she chuckled.

"If I remember about it by this time tomorrow, I'll be sure t' ask him about it," he told her, a bit of laughter in his voice as well.

The pair seemed to have timed their trip perfectly. During the two hours it took to reach Erebor, not a single drop of rain fell. When they came out of the temporary stables used by visitors, however, they could both see and hear the downpour taking place beyond the gate.

"Hopefully it lets up by the time we head out," Bofur said, a bit of a concerned look on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Aye. Good thing it won't be for some hours," Baylee agreed with a small nod. Then, smiling, she glanced over at him. "But that's not somethin' we have t' worry about right now."

His brow rose and he chuckled. "Aye, that's very true, lass." Turning his back on the gate, he motioned for her to start following him. "Though, looks like I won't be takin' you t' see any o' the lookout points, since all o' them are outside."

"That's alright. I'm sure there are still plenty o' things inside the mountain you'll be showin' me." She fell into step with him, holding her basket in the crook of her arm. As she looked around, she saw all sorts of dwarves wandering around and, admittedly, she felt a bit chuffed that she could see right over the tops of their heads. There were a few, however, who were nearly the same height as her.

"Oh, aye. That is, if we don't get too waylaid by the wee badgers back home." He stole a peek at her, seeing a bit of awe on her face. "Surprised t' be seein' over everyone's heads?" he joked.

Her cheeks turned a bit pink and she laughed. "Just a little bit," she admitted. "But also, the first time I came here, there weren't nearly as many dwarves livin' here, so seein' how much the population has increased is a pleasant surprise."

"Oh, aye—they've come from all over, too! The Blue Mountains, the Red Mountains, the Yellow Mountains, an' the Iron Hills. You can find dwarves from almost all the clans here, too."

"I take it Ironfists are the exception?"

"I see someone's been payin' attention t' the random tidbits o' information we blather about," he grinned.

"O' course I have! After all, there's only so much I can ask you durin' our morning chats." The further they walked into the city, the more she started to notice just how much jewelry and hair adornments the dwarrow dames were wearing. Some, though, wore hardly any; those ones also appeared to be younger. "Though, speakin' o' asking you things…Why do some o' the dwarrow dames have a lot o' jewelry on while others barely have any?"

He blinked and looked around; being a dwarf, he was used to seeing the women clad in copious amounts of silver and gold. To him, they weren't actually wearing too much—in fact, some of the older ones looked to be quite reserved in their accessories! "Ah, it's a bit o' an age and relationship thing," he explained. "Until a dwarrow dame comes o' age, she doesn't wear or receive too much jewelry—the exception bein' inheritances from deceased family members an' things they've purchased on their own. When she gets t' be o' age, though, she starts receivin' pieces o' jewelry an' hair beads because, well, she's a woman an' we dwarves spoil our women, whether we're courtin' them or not." He chuckled, hooking his thumbs through his beltloops as he walked. "As for why they wear so much o' it, the women who are married tend t' wear more o' it than others as a way of saying 'look how much my husband loves me'."

She nodded in understanding, quietly laughing. "Sounds like it's just a much more extreme form o' how we humans dote on one another," she said. "Lads will give lasses jewelry if they're courtin', but until they're plannin' to propose, it's never anythin' as elegant as the stuff I'm seein' the dwarrow dames wearing. It's usually just a little charm bracelet or a simple pendant on a chain."

"We don't do simple when it comes t' jewelry—at least, when it comes t' our women. Even the 'simplest' bits o' our jewelry would probably be what human nobility wears. The jewelry worn by us lads, though, can be fairly simple. Rings are usually just plain bands or bands with a single stone; ear cuffs have simple designs; an' hair beads tend t' have simple designs as well…after all, there are so many o' us lads, we're not really worth spoilin'."

"At least, not with jewelry, but I'm sure you lads get spoiled with plenty o' good food an' drink."

He snorted. "Ah, you got me there, lass! That's very true. Hardly any dwarves are bad cooks." He then paused, his brows knitting together slightly. "Except Dori. The only thing he's good at makin' are pots o' tea and charcutier boards."

She looked at him, her brows furrowed in confusion. "A…a what board?"

"Charcutier," he repeated, chuckling. "It might just be a thing among hobbits, but it's a type o' big ol' board filled with fruits, cheeses, an' cured meats. Sometimes, there are breads, too. It's meant for snackin' on rather than being a whole meal."

"So…it's basically a fancier version o' the trays o' snacks I bring you lads?"

"Mhm. Though, t' be quite honest, I much prefer your snack trays. I can actually pronounce the names o' all the food on them."

Laughing, she playfully rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you could pronounce most o' the fancy meats an' cheeses Dori an' hobbits use."

"I could…or I could also purposefully mess them up just t' see Dori get flustered," he snickered. "One o' the meats he imports is especially good for mispronouncing."

"Let me guess: Prosciutto?"

His eyes widened slightly as he looked at her in shock. "How did…?"

A cheeky-yet-innocent grin came to her lips. "We used t' have it in the original Tankard. I may have accidentally called it 'pro-shit-oh' a number o' times."

Bofur burst out laughing; he drew less attention here than he would have in Dale. "That's exactly what I call it!" he snickered. "It's t' the point where I'm banned from sayin' it around him. Quite a shame, really; he makes the silliest faces when you say fancy names wrong."

"I believe it," she giggled, her brow rising. As they drew nearer to an enormous archway, she could hear the people beyond it hocking their wares to passersby. "The market sounds busy."

"Aye, though believe it or not, this is one o' its less busy days. But where we're headin' to is over this way." He pointed at a smaller archway a few dozen yards away on the opposite side of the street. "This is where the craftin' region is. Like Dale, it's separated further by each craft, though unlike Dale, they're not located in all different parts o' the city."

She nodded in understanding, intrigued by this. "How are they separated, then? Each street is a different craft?"

"Mm…sort of. It's kind o' hard to explain without a map, but the crafting region is laid out in a sort o' grid. Each section o' the grid is one type o' craft, like smithing, fiber arts, pottery—that sort o' thing. An' then each o' those sections are further broken up into the individual occupations. Like, for smithin', you have the ore processors, the tool makers, the weapons makers…For fiber arts, you've got the weavers, the dyers, the embroiderers, an' the seamstresses an' tailors."

"From the sound o' it, the crafting region is basically its own city o' workers."

He nodded. "That's exactly what it is!" he grinned. "The only exceptions t' this are the miners an' the tanners. Obviously, the miners work in the mines while the tanners have their businesses on the outside o' the mountain."

"I would hope, given how horrendous they smell," she chuckled.

Passing through the archway, the two were greeted by the sight of an extremely long street lined with marble buildings of various sizes. There was a sigh strung up between the two foremost buildings, showing a needle and a spindle of thread—the fiber arts district. Bofur led her away from this street, taking her left a few streets. As they approached, Baylee could tell which district it was without needing to see the sign; the sound of hammers on metal echoed up the street towards them. A sign bearing a hammer and anvil confirmed her assumption: The smithing district.

"It's goin' t' get loud down here," he warned her, "so Iglishmêk is used more than Westron or Khuzdul."

"Makes sense. Though…I have to ask: Why not just buy a spear from a shop in the market?"

A cheeky grin came to his lips. "It's always cheaper t' buy right from the maker than it is from the middleman, since there's no middleman who also has t' make a profit. The only downside is that you don't get as big o' a selection, since it's only the work o' one person you're seeing." They turned down the street and he frowned slightly; it was fairly crowded with many carts lining both sides of the street and workers hauling goods both from the carts and onto the carts. "Ah…I forgot. Today's delivery day," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Is that bad?" she asked, a small frown coming to her lips as well.

"No, no—it just gets a wee bit crowded here an' it's easy t' get separated if you're not careful enough. We'll just have t' be careful is all."

Baylee cleared her throat, her cheeks turning a touch pink. "I could also hold your hand," she told him, her tone casual enough. "T' make doubly sure we don't end up getting separated."

Bofur's face grew warm; he hadn't expected her to make such a suggestion. Not that he minded, of course. "That's a smart idea, lass," he told her with a small laugh. "Simple, but smart." He offered his hand to her, his cheeks getting a touch warmer when she took it. With their hands safely clasped, he started to lead her off once more.

He took her almost halfway down the long street; all the while, the sounds of hammers got louder and louder. By the time he brought her to a specific building, he was having to sign at her in order to speak with her. Luckily, Iglishmêk was a language that could be used mostly one-handed.

'This is my brother-in-law's shop,' he signed. 'He makes some of the best weapons in Erebor! But I am a bit biased, so you may want to take that with a grain of sand.'

She laughed, but the sound was lost among the hammering. 'I have no choice but to take your word on this,' she reminded him. She watched as Bofur stepped up to a pair of wooden shutters; beside them, a thick rope hung. He grabbed this rope and gave it three sharp tugs; they both were barely able to hear the clanging of a bell beyond the wall.

A moment later, the shutters opened to reveal a dwarf with bright, gingery hair and a large beard that was braided into three separate ropes. His eyes widened and a small grin came to his lips when he saw Bofur standing there.

'Bofur! Long time no see! What brings you here?' As he signed, he glanced at the human standing alongside Bofur; when Bofur let go of her hand so he could use both signs, the dwarf seemed to grow a bit amused.

'Yes, it has been quite a while hasn't it, Cynyr? I'm here because my companion is in need of one of your spears.'

'She's just your companion?' he teased. His grin grew broader as Bofur's face grew redder; he didn't notice how Baylee's face had grown quite red as well.

'Yes,' Bofur replied. 'And, like I said, she needs a spear. As you can see, she's small for a human, so a dwarf-sized spear would be best for her.'

'A human lass needing a spear? That's not something you hear every day.' He looked Baylee over for a moment, doing his best to guesstimate how heavy of a spear she would need. 'I'm assuming she'd like a normal war spear and not a boar spear? And how long would she like it to be?'

'You would be correct,' Baylee signed, biting back some laughter as Cynyr gawked at her. 'Preferably a leaf blade, if that's possible. As for length, I was thinking something around five and a half feet, including spearhead.'

Unlike Baylee, Bofur wasn't able to contain his laughter at Cynyr's expression. 'I'm sorry—I guess I forgot to mention she knows Iglishmêk.'

Looking quite embarrassed, Cynyr cleared his throat. 'I didn't know any humans knew our signs…'

'It's a long story,' Bofur told him, 'but yes, she's fluent.'

Cynyr nodded slowly, an apologetic look on his face as he looked at Baylee. 'My apologies, lass. As for spears with those specifications, I'm not sure I've got anything already made like that, but the two of you are welcome to come in and look at what I do have ready.' He motioned to a door just off to their right.

Following Bofur as he headed inside, Baylee tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and glanced around. She was surprised to find that it wasn't much different from her father's shop—then again, he had been apprenticed under a dwarf, so it shouldn't have surprised her too much. Along one of the walls were barrels filled with different sorts of pole weapons. One had halberds, another glaives, two of them had spears, and there was even some poleaxes.

'These are the ones I have readymade,' Cynyr explained. 'Most of them are light for us dwarves, but I'm not sure how heavy they'd be to a human.'

Baylee nodded, starting to look through one of the barrels of spears; admittedly, she was tempted to also look through the glaives. She managed to keep her focus on the spears, though. Many of them, she found, had wooden poles while some were entirely metal and still yet others had metal embedded to add more strength to the wood. In addition to that, almost all of the spears had square shafts.

'Hm. Not sure if I like the squareness or not,' she thought, pulling one out. Making sure Cynyr and Bofur weren't close by, she started to look it over more closely. 'Though, the squareness does make it easier to grip…It's also a good height, though it's a bit heavier than I'd like. That's probably because of all this metal in the pole section.' Returning it to the barrel, she continued looking.

While she looked, Bofur and Cynyr stood off to the side, signing away at each other. 'I'm still having a hard time believing that Gerdi gave birth to another daughter,' Cynyr was telling Bofur. 'Three daughters…Aulë's truly blessed that sister of mine.'

'And that brother of mine!' Bofur grinned. 'Some folk get all the luck, don't they? Ah, but our siblings deserve it. They're wonderful parents.'

Cynyr nodded in agreement. 'That they are.' He then nodded at Baylee, who had her back to them. 'You sure she's nothing more than a friend? I saw that you two were holding hands…'

Bofur's cheeks grew quite red once more. 'I'll admit I fancy her and I think she fancies me, but no. We're only friends at this point; we were holding hands so we wouldn't get separated on the way here. Delivery day makes for some crowded streets, after all.'

'True, true…though, I have to admit, I didn't expect you to fall for a human lass.' He looked over at her again, his brow rising slightly. 'She's a good height, but she could stand to gain a few pounds and a few whiskers.'

'No, no—she's lovely as is.' He wore a small pout on his lips as he looked at his brother-in-law. 'Though…I might agree with her gaining a bit of weight, but only because I wish she didn't have so many chores to tend to. She's an innkeeper's daughter, by the way, so she's running around most of the day.'

Cynyr nodded in understanding. 'Should take her over to your place so Gerdi can stuff her before you leave.'

A bit of a mischievous grin came to Bofur's lips. 'We will be heading over there later. I'm going to take her to the market after this, though. Might wander through the jewelers' district to see if she likes anything.'

Nodding, Cynyr, too, wore a mischievous smile. 'Going to try and sneak her a gift, are you?'

Bofur shrugged, still wearing the grin. He didn't have time to reply, though, as Baylee turned around, rubbing the side of her neck. 'Did you see any you liked, lass?'

'Yes, I did, but most of them are too heavy for me, I'm afraid.'

A look of understanding came to Cynyr's face. 'I thought that may end up being the case,' he signed. 'Lucky for you, though, I don't have any orders to fill for the day. So why don't we get talking about some specifics and I can either hammer one out or modify an existing one for you.'

Rán was beyond thankful that his cloak was waterproof.

Usually, he didn't mind riding in the rain, but on a cool day like today in an even cooler climate, it made him want nothing more than to turn Galal around and head back to the city. Instead, though, he continued to ride south with Fifika and Seth flanking him; as the leader of the rangers, he knew he had to set a good example.

"What miserable weather! Doesn't this city ever have any warm days?" Seth grumbled in their native tongue. "Or are they perpetually stuck in winter this far north?"

"It's not that cold," Fifika countered. She glanced over at him, water dripping from her hood only to land on her mare's back. "And if it were perpetually winter, don't you think there would be snow on the ground?" A small laugh left her mouth.

Turning, he gestured at the top of the Lonely Mountain; though they were nearly ten miles south of it, it still loomed above them like a giant. "Behold! Snow!" he said, his voice full of sarcasm.

"Almost all mountains are capped by snow, Seth," Rán retorted, his brow rising. "Even the mountains to the south of the Sea of Rhûn are snowcapped."

"My point is," Seth huffed, "that this place is cold. We've been here—what, nearly two months already? Or is it closer to three?—and even on the sunny days, it's barely warm enough to be without our cloaks."

Rán shook his head, chuckling. "You'll get used to it soon. It takes time to acclimatize to new places." He was beginning to wonder if he should have paired Seth with Aizik; the half-elf was his best friend and sibling-in-law, after all.

Seth muttered under his breath and slouched forward in the saddle.

Fifika couldn't help but snort at his behavior. "Cheer up," she told him. "At least it rains more than three times a year up here. We'll never have to worry about a drought again."

He nodded in acquiesce and sighed. "That is true…being out on an assignment during a drought was always horrible, especially when we weren't following any rivers."

"Another good thing is I doubt the summers up here aren't half as hot," Rán added. "We might actually go a summer without getting sunburned for once."

"Now that I doubt," Fifika laughed. "Just because we're further north doesn't mean the summer sun is going to be any less forgiving if we're walking around in just our tunics or tunics and undershirts." Reaching up, she pulled her hood back just a little bit, allowing her to see the road ahead a bit better. "Especially if you're going to keep parading around in your sleeveless one to show off to Lady Baylee."

Rán felt his cheeks grow warm and, though Seth and Fifika couldn't see it, he cocked his brow. "As I said before, it doesn't hurt to give her a glimpse at what could be hers." His brows then furrowed as, far ahead of them, he could see a pair of moving objects. He brought Galal to a halt at the same time he raised his fist, signaling to the others to stop.

"What is it?" Fifika asked, her voice taking on a more serious tone.

"Look ahead of us," he answered. "About half a mile to the southeast; in the gully." He pointed off into the distance, near where the road started to dip downhill.

Squinting slightly, Seth and Fifika nodded in unison. "It looks like two bears," the former stated. "Perhaps young ones, just separated from their mother."

"Or a male pursuing a female," Fifika said with a small nod.

Rán's eyes narrowed slightly as he continued to watch the pair. "I don't think so…while both look to be about the right shape and size, their backsides aren't quite right for a bear." Bringing Galal around, he looked at them. "And why would bears be this far from the forest? There isn't much for them to hunt out here."

Seth looked past their leader, watching the shapes. "…Look at how they're moving. It almost looks as if they were pacing."

"We definitely need to get a better look at them, then," Fifika sighed. "If Aizik were here, they could tell us what we were seeing…"

"Hard to say. They are only half elf, after all; their sight is good, yes, but not nearly as good as a full-blooded elf." Rán turned Galal once more. "Fifika, I want you to approach from the west; Seth, from the north. I'll go in from the east and try to get as close as I can. Do not let yourselves be seen, but if you do run into trouble, you know what to do."

"Yes, sir," Fifika and Seth chorused.

Rán spurred Galal forward, steering him to the southeast. As he rode, he did his best to pick a path that would keep him from being noticed by the creatures, though he knew that, eventually, he would need to go in on foot. He just hoped that the creatures weren't what he suspected they were.

'Or, if they are wargs, I hope they don't belong to those raiders,' he thought. 'I do know that untamed wargs will travel to far-off, unfamiliar places in their hunt for food…With Oromë's luck, that's all they'll be.' Despite this, something in his stomach told him that this wasn't the case.

He had Galal go at a trot, not wanting the sound of his hooves at a canter or gallop to draw attention to them. When he had ridden fifteen minutes directly east, he turned his steed towards the south and rode for another ten minutes. Then, bringing Galal to a stop, he dismounted.

"Stay here," he quietly ordered, patting the side of the stallion's neck. "I'll whistle if I need you, alright?" A small smile came to his lips when Galal pressed his nose against his cheek. Patting him one more time for luck, he turned and started to make for the spot where he had seen the creatures.

As he drew closer, he could hear quiet snarls and growls coming from behind one of the large rock formations. He knew he couldn't entirely trust his ears, though; sound bounced off the rocks, becoming distorted and altered. Reaching the edge of the formation, he pressed himself against it as best he could before carefully peering around the corner. He saw no one, but he did see that the distance between this first formation and the next was nearly fifty yards.

Sprinting his way across the gap, he glanced around for any sign of Seth and Fifika. When he saw none, he felt relieved—it meant they were doing their job well.

'I'm both thankful for this terrain and unthankful for it at the same time,' he thought, reaching the rock wall. 'While it affords us plenty of cover, it also makes it difficult to know just how far away our targets are.'

The growls had gotten much louder by this point and he could also hear voices. What they were saying was indiscernible, though. Quietly as he could, he drew his sword from its sheath and started to make his way towards the far edge of the rocks. As he walked, he kept his cloak wrapped around his body, both to keep himself from getting too wet and to hide the blade.

Once more, he pressed himself against the rock wall and peeked around the corner. This time, however, he was in luck: He could see a pair of wargs pacing in circles around a trio of people. He couldn't make out what two of them looked like due to them being covered by heavy cloaks, but the third was very obviously an orc. It wore no cloak and what little it wore in the way of armor and clothing was ragged and rusting.

What worried him, though, was the size of the wargs. They were almost thrice the size of any warg he had seen before.

'That explains why they looked like they were the size of bears—because they are the size of bears,' he thought, frowning.

Glancing around the area, he looked for a way to get closer to them. About ten yards from the group, he could see that there was a large boulder; it would provide ample cover should he manage to get to it without being seen. That in and of itself was a major risk due to there being no cover between here and there.

'I'll have to risk it,' he told himself. 'If those three are part of the raiding party, I need to hear what they're saying. Oromë, please grant me luck in this.'

Crouching as low as he could while still having enough mobility to walk, he moved forward. He kept his eye on the two wargs, watching as they continued their pacing. Oromë must have heard his plea, because after a tense five-minute span, he was behind the boulder.

He knelt on the muddy ground and, pulling his hood back slightly, started to listen in on the conversation. A small frown came to his lips as he realized that, though he was much closer to the group now, he could only hear bits and pieces of the conversation.

"…An' you promise t' deliver…Can we trust…" The first voice most certainly belonged to a male, but whether he was elf or human, let alone his age were nearly impossible to tell.

"A…never go back on word…" This second one, though deep, belonged to a woman. He recognized her accent as being one from the area around Dorwinion. "…Meeting place will being…Understand, yes? Good…not be failing me…"

The third voice belonged to the orc and, unlike the other two, it sounded impatient. "In agreement, yes, yes…To leave now. Thunder is fast…"

'They must be planning their next attack,' he thought, his eyes narrowed. 'That male has the same accent as the natives of Dale. He must be some sort of informant—we'll need to try to bring him in somehow.' Cautiously, he crawled forward a bit and risked stealing a look at the group of conspirators.

But while luck had been on his side earlier, it wasn't on his side now.

One of the wargs had sat down near the trio and had been facing east. It was sniffing the air with interest when it spotted the tiny bit of Rán's head that had poked out from the boulder. Jumping back to its feet, it snarled and started to bark at the rock.

Rán's eyes shot open; he knew he was caught. His heart racing, he moved away from the boulder and brought his sword out from under his cloak. He spun around in time to see the warg leaping at him and, with little choice, he threw himself out of the way.

A grunt left his mouth as he hit the ground, hard. Lifting his head, he could see the warg landing a few yards away before turning around. He started to push himself to his feet, hearing yelling behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the second warg racing towards him. Like the first, it jumped at him.

This time, as Rán dropped to the ground, he thrust his sword upwards as the warg soared over him. Though his blade pierced the creature's hide, it quickly became caught on a bit of bone and Rán was yanked forward when the warg's momentum made it tumble forward. The force was enough to send the ranger flying; he swore in pain as he slammed into the ground.

Someone whistled and he heard the thumping of the other warg rush past, ignoring him completely. Getting to his feet, Rán kept his focus on the second warg. It still had his sword sticking out of its chest, blood rolling down the blade and dripping off of the handle. The wound, it seemed, was not immediately mortal.

Pulling a knife from his vambrace, he sidestepped as the warg charged at him. It was the ranger who jumped this time around, grabbing onto the warg's fur and hauling himself onto its back. He tried to wrap his arm around to cut its throat, but the creature's neck was too thick. Instead, he plunged the knife into its flesh and yanked backwards.

There was a spray of blood and the warg stumbled forward, tripping over its own paws. Rán threw himself off of the animal before it could flip over on itself and he rolled a few yards. Before he could get to his feet, however, he cried out in pain; the first warg, now with two riders on its back, had raced over.

It grabbed him in its massive mouth and shook him violently. Then, with little care, it threw him aside and galloped off, not bothering to stay and watch the ranger as he slammed into the top of the boulder and roll off the other side.

Pain filled Rán's whole body, but it was worst on his right side—specifically, his shoulder and arm. There was a combination of sharp, stinging pain and dull, throbbing aches. Trying as hard as he could, he forced himself upright. He leaned back against the boulder while holding his right arm to his chest, his fist clenched tight. A soft hiss of pain left his mouth and he scrunched his eyes shut.

'I need to see how bad my wounds are,' he told himself. 'I need to tend to them…warg bites are nasty…they'll get infected if I don't clean them soon…' But try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes to look.

He wasn't sure how long he had been sitting there when he finally heard Fifika and Seth coming towards him.

"Rán! Oh, gods, Rán, please be alive!" Fifika's voice was filled with fear.

"Can you hear us?" Seth hurriedly asked. He practically threw himself onto his knees, already unpinning Rán's cloak.

"I'm alive and I can hear you," Rán grunted in reply. Finally mustering the willpower to open his eyes, he found that Fifika's face was much paler than normal. "I'll be fine, 'Ika," he assured her, a weak smile on his lips.

"Not unless we get you to a healer fast." As Seth spoke, he carefully pulled Rán's cloak out from under him before folding it lengthwise a few times. "You've got large lacerations on your chest and arm, as well as lots of puncture marks from the warg's teeth." Once folded, he wrapped the cloak around Rán's torso in such a way that it would keep his arm pinned to his chest while also applying enough pressure to some of the lacerations to stop them from bleeding. "You'll ride with me so I can keep an eye on these injuries."

Rán nodded, swallowing hard. "'Ika…you need to—to search the other warg," he commanded. "There has to be some clue about the raiders on it…"

"Y-yes, sir." She looked at Seth. "I'll help you get him onto Dalka."

There was a look of terror on Ashailyn's face as she burst through the door of Rán's room. "How is he?" she demanded, pushing her way past Girish and Hunil to her brother's bedside. When she reached the foot of Rán's bed, she found him sitting up and talking. A good portion of his torso was covered in bandages and he had some dark bruises on his face.

"I'm fine, Ashailyn," he reassured her, a tired smile on his lips. Though his voice sounded a bit weak, the color of his skin was good; he hadn't lost too much blood. "Thanks to Seth and Lord Braddock, I'm going to make a full recovery."

Seth, who was sitting on a stool beside the bed, nodded. "He'll have to stay in bed for a few days, though. And then, after that, he will have to take it easy. No patrols, no sparring, no doing anything strenuous."

A sigh of relief left her mouth and Ashailyn sat down on the edge of the bed. "When Aizik told me what happened, I feared the worst. Two wargs, Rán?!"

His brow rose. "You act as if I had meant to get attacked," he said, his voice dry. He then shook his head. "If they had been wargs of a normal size, I would have been victorious. But these two? They were the size of bears." He cursed as his sister suddenly reached over and thwacked him upside the head, which made the others start to laugh.

"Don't tell me that!" she scolded. "That'll just make me worry more and you know it!"

Rubbing his head, Rán wore a small pout. "One of them is dead," he told her. "The other…is probably tens of miles from here by now. You don't need to worry about one of them finding me again."

"There are more pressing matters to discuss anyway." Nakara came into the room and walked over to the bed. "I went through the bags Fifika retrieved from the dead warg. For the most part, there was nothing that could be of use—just food rations, a water skin, some clothes, and jewelry. But…" He held out a sheathed sword to Rán, holding it so the hilt faced their leader. "Look at this blade."

Rán's brow rose and, grabbing the hilt, he drew the sword. At first glance, it looked like nothing more than a standard kopis—and one that hadn't been very well cared for, either, judging by the dents along the cutting edge and the spots of rust. But as he looked closer, he found runes engraved down the length of the blade. They weren't just any type of rune, however.

"These are dwarf runes," he stated, looking up at Nakara with a frown. He started to curse the fact that his mother hadn't had time to teach him how to read runes before she died.

Nakara nodded. "I had Master Ori translate them for me." He pulled a rolled-up sheet of paper from his belt and, letting the sheath fall onto the bed, he unfurled the paper. "It says, 'Please seek me out, a captive among thieves. I am in the place where the sea meets the twin peaks.'"

"…Now that's very interesting," Girish said, his brow cock. "A dwarven smith held captive among raiders and who was smart enough to leave a message in their handiwork."

The others nodded in agreement. "They even gave us a hint as to their location," Seth added. "I wish it was a bit more clear, but it's a good start."

"'…Where the sea meets the twin peaks'," Ashailyn murmured, a contemplative look on her face. "The only place I can think of is along the southwestern shores of the Sea of Rhûn."

"But we've looked along those shores and foothills hundreds of times," Nakara countered. "The queen sent half her army to scour that area and nothing was ever found."

"Can we even trust that this blade actually came from this far inland?" Hunil put forth. "Five or six hundred miles to the northeast are the northern seas."

Rán shook his head. "No. It wouldn't have come from there," he said. "Why would raiders who have the prosperous city-states of Loten, Kykurien Kyn, and Desdursyton so close at hand, be this far west?" He closed his eyes, letting out a quiet sigh; he was doing his best to not let his exhaustion show. "And you said this was the only thing of interest, Nakara?"

"I'm afraid so." Picking up the sword, he sheathed it again. "Would you like to keep it in here, or shall I keep it among my things?"

"Leave it here. When I'm able to walk, I'll need to take it to King Bard and give him a briefing of what I overheard."

The others looked surprised. "You were able to overhear something?" Nakara questioned.

"Yes. There were three of them, a male, a female, and an orc. The female was from somewhere near Dorwinion, but I couldn't place where exactly. The orc was your run-of-the-mill scum and the male was, most definitely, from Dale or Laketown. I could only hear bits and pieces of their conversation, but it sounded like they were making some sort of deal." Lifting his hand, he ran them back through his auburn waves. "The orc and female were going to deliver something to the male; they have a meeting place, but where that place is, I didn't hear. "

"That's fine," Ashailyn told him, concern back on her face. Like the others, she could tell her brother was trying to hide his exhaustion from them. "Today we got more information on these raiders than we have in the last four years. And now our main concern is letting you rest so you can heal."

His brow rose. "I'm in bed, am I not? Therefore, I'm resting."

Seth shook his head and stood up, chuckling. "He's being stubborn about staying in bed. Time for us to leave."

"W-we're not done discussing this!" Rán countered, frowning. He watched as the men started to leave the room. "Come back here!"

Ashailyn laughed, her brow rising at her brother's stubbornness. "Nakara, could you have Lady Wenna or Lady Primrose bring a pot of tea up here? Mint, if they have it."

Nakara nodded before he and the others left, leaving the siblings alone in the room. A sigh passed Ashailyn's lips as she closed her eyes and tiredly rubbed her face. Rán tilted his head back against the headboard, also sighing.

"Funny how we've been searching for these raiders for years and it's only when we're no longer in service to Dorwinion that we finally get an important clue as to their whereabouts," Ashailyn said after a few minutes. Opening her eyes again, she looked over at her brother, seeing that there was still a small frown on his lips. "Perhaps this is a good thing? If King Bard grants us permission, we could go looking for their hideout. We could finally be rid of those scoundrels!"

Rán lightly shook his head. "As much as I wish that to be the case, we won't be the ones who find the hideout," he told her. "The most we'll be able to do is pass along this information to the Queen. You know as well as I that, after they killed her son, she wants to be the one to lead the attack."

"That is true," she said, nodding in acquiesce. "And…to be fair, Dorwinion is no longer our concern. King Bard is our ruler now."

He nodded slowly in agreement. "Yes, he is…I must admit, I like it here more than I ever liked being in Dorwinion." Seeing a mischievous grin come to his sister's lips, he quickly added, "And not just because of Lady Baylee. King Bard is far more benevolent towards us than Queen Muna and the weather is far more agreeable."

"Hmm…Yes, I'll agree with you on that," she said. "But, while the food is good, I miss the spices of Dorwinion. The food here isn't bland by any means, but I miss some of flavors."

"I wonder if Lady Galiene would find it offensive if we gifted her a cook book and some spices from Dorwinion? She already uses some in her cooking…"

"For that, you'd need to ask one of the Braddocks or Lady Wenna. The last thing we'd need is to accidentally insult their cook." She let out a heavy sigh, her eyes falling to the bandages around her brother's chest and bicep. Though she couldn't see the wounds they covered, the blood that stained them told her that he had severely downplayed the severity of his injuries. "Seth said that Lord Braddock assisted in tending to your wounds."

Rán nodded. "He did. With how easily it is for warg bites to get infected, he brought us an herb that's good for cleaning wounds—among many other uses, apparently. It's called athelas. Lady Baylee told me about it once; it's an ancient herb that was brought to Middle Earth by a people called the Númenóreans."

Ashailyn's brow rose. "An odd topic for you and your ladylove to discuss. I would expect you to try wooing her with tales of your many adventures and near misses." She grinned as her brother's cheeks became flushed.

"She's not my ladylove…not yet, at least. But we do enjoy talking about a variety of different subjects." He reached up and ran his good hand through his hair. "And that includes the histories of some of Middle Earth's peoples." His cheeks grew a bit darker. "Though, I have told her a tale or two of our adventures."

"Did you make sure to exaggerate your roles in them so that you were the greatest hero?"

He frowned. "Of course not! I made sure to tell her about everyone's roles in the adventures. She was quite fond of hearing about how you and Kreine had to save Nakara, Girish, and me from that band of scouting Easterlings."

Her brow rose in surprise. "You told her that one? I wouldn't have expected that."

"Just because I wanted to impress her doesn't mean I was going to hog the glory. The rest of you deserve it just as much as me. In many cases, more so." He looked at the door as there was a knock. "Come in," he called, speaking in Westron once more.

The door opened and Wenna came in, bearing a tray with a teapot, two mugs, a small plate of scones, and a bowl of clotted cream. When she saw the confused look on their faces, she said, "Nakara asked that I bring the two o' you some scones t' tide you over until dinner," she explained. Her eyes glanced over at Rán only to widen as she saw the bloodied bandages. "Oh dear…Mr. Braddock said you were hurt, but he didn't say how hurt you were…"

Rán gave her a reassuring smile. "These bandages are deceiving; they make my wounds look worse than they truly are," he assured her. "Thank you for the tea and scones, by the way. It is most appreciated."

"If you're in need of anything else, my lord and lady, just holler," the lass said, giving them a friendly smile. She turned to leave, but when she reached the doorway, Rán spoke up.

"Oh—one quick thing, Lady Wenna," he said. "Has Lady Baylee returned from Erebor yet?"

As she shook her head, Wenna's curls bounced about her neck and shoulders. "No, not yet. Would you like me t' let you know when she does?" There was a bit of a knowing smile on her lips.

"No, thank you. I was merely curious is all." He watched as she nodded and left the room; he then blinked as Ashailyn forced a mug of tea into his hand.

"Don't you worry about your ladylove," she told him. "When she hears that you were attacked and wounded, she'll come racing up here." A teasing grin then appeared on her lips. "She may even kiss you."

"That I doubt," he grumbled before taking a small sip of his tea. "She doesn't seem to be the type who kisses first."

"Hmm…I'll have to agree with you on that. But that doesn't mean you won't be able to sneak a little kiss in."

His lips pursed in a small pout, but he didn't reply. Instead, he took another sip of tea. Though he didn't want to admit it out loud, the thought of stealing a kiss from Baylee was quite a nice one…