A/N: Hello all~! I just wanted to give you all a fair warning: This chapter depicts some physical and verbal abuse towards a female character. The scene starts shortly after Bofur and Baylee reach the southern gate and ends when you see the line starting with 'Shaking her head, Baylee...'.
During the night, the storm had blown itself out, leaving calm, but still grey, skies and no rain. Bofur hoped that it would remain this way long enough to let him and Baylee return to the Full Tankard nice and dry. At the moment, though, he didn't need to worry about staying dry—he just had to worry about waking Baylee up, as it was nearly nine o'clock in the morning.
'I hope she's feeling alright,' he thought with a frown. 'That'd be horrible—I introduce her to my family only for her to go and get sick…' He looked down at the mug of tea he held; it was lemon-ginger, a flavor he had never personally tried, but Dori said it tasted divine. 'I hope she likes this flavor. I remember her saying she loves lemon and it smells pretty good, so it can't be too bad.'
Reaching the guestroom, he knocked on the door. "Baylee? You awake?" He waited a few seconds, but no answer came so he knocked a second time. But still no answer. His brows furrowing, he quietly opened the door and poked his head in. "Lass?"
Across the room, he could see Baylee still in bed and it looked like she was curled up. Still frowning somewhat, he stepped into the room and made his way over to her, hoping she wasn't curled up because of a stomachache. He set the tea down on the nightstand and turned towards her so he could gently shake her. Before he did, however, he leaned over slightly to check on her. While she was curled up into a small ball, he was relieved to find that she didn't seem the least bit sick. Instead, she wore a content smile as she slept peacefully, a pillow clutched to her chest.
'Now I almost hate to wake her,' he thought, feeling his insides grow a bit warm at the sight. 'I don't think I've ever seen her look this peaceful.'
He let out a small, defeated sigh and set his hand on her shoulder before gently shaking her. "Baylee, it's time t' wake up," he said, his voice gentle so as to not startle her.
"Mmm…just a few more minutes," she mumbled, grabbing the blanket and pulling it over her head.
Bofur was unable to silence a snort as he watched her. "Lass, it's nearly nine o'clock."
She suddenly pushed the blanket down and bolted upright. "You're jokin'."
He shook his head, chuckling quietly; her hair was a mess. "Nope. That's actually why I'm up here: I got a wee bit worried that you had fallen ill or somethin' because you were sleepin' so long."
"No, no—I feel fine," she assured him, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "I was just really comfortable an' warm." She gave him a somewhat sleepy smile before pushing the blankets aside and letting her legs dangle over the edge of the bed. Her feet touched the floor, something they didn't do with her own bed. She was surprised; she had expected the stone to be cold, but she found it to be pleasantly warm.
"Well, that's good t' hear," he smiled. Grabbing the mug, he held it out to her. "Here. I brought you some tea t' help you wake up."
"Thank you," she said, taking the mug from him. Holding it close to her face, she closed her eyes and inhaled the scent. "Mmm…I smell lemon," she murmured. She opened an eye as she felt the bed shift beside her and found that Bofur was now sitting beside her. A small smile coming to her lips, she let her eye fall shut again.
"Aye. It's lemon-ginger," he replied with a small chuckle. "I hope you like it; I've never actually had that flavor before, but Dori's a fan o' it."
"I think I had it once, but it was a long time ago." She blew across the top of the tea a few times before taking a small sip. It was still quite hot, making her glad she had only taken a sip. "Mm…I approve."
He laughed, his brow rising. "Gerdi might send you home with the tin o' it then. The others don't really like it much."
She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Can't say that I'd complain about that," she smiled.
"Good, because I know for a fact she's also loadin' that basket o' yours up with goodies for us t' take back," he grinned.
"Ooh, what kind o' goodies?" Blowing across the top of her tea once more, she took a second sip. The tartness of the lemon was an almost perfect pairing for the spiciness of the ginger, though she wished there was a bit more tartness.
Gathering up his courage, he brought out a pendant from under his tunic and, pulling it in half, revealed it to be a comb. "Mostly baked goods like scones an' hand pies." While he spoke, he turned to face her before reaching over and gathering up her hair. "Though, I think she's also slippin' in a rope o' the sausage she used in yesterday's soup."
Her cheeks grew pink as she felt him starting to comb her hair for her. "Ooh, I'll be certain t' put those t' good use then," she smiled. She shifted a bit, now sitting with her back more towards him so he had an easier time reaching her hair. "An' I can promise it won't be in sausage gravy."
"I'm sure whatever you use it for, it'll be delicious," he snorted. He could feel his cheeks burning as he ran the comb through her hair; he hadn't expected her hair be so soft. "Unless, o' course, you're thinkin' about putting it in some sort o' dessert."
It was her turn to snort. "Ew, why would I put sausage in a dessert?" she giggled, her brow rising. "That sounds like somethin' Will would do if he were left t' his own devices in the kitchen."
"I take it he's not the best o' cooks?"
"He can hardly cook a scrambled egg without burnin' it."
"Ooh, aye, that's not very good then," he chuckled. With her hair now free of tangles, he started to separate out pieces for him to braid. "A wee bit off topic, but before we leave, did you want t' go see if your spear was ready?"
"Aye, that'd be a good idea." A quiet laugh left her mouth. "It's a good thing you brought that up, because I had completely forgotten about it."
His brow rose as he smiled. "The lassie with the crazy-good memory forgot all about her spear?" he teased. "Now that's a wee bit surprising."
She snorted and playfully rolled her eyes. "I suppose it slipped my mind while we were wandering around the market yesterday. Or maybe it got lost among the sea o' questions your badgers were askin' me." As she felt him beginning to braid, she wondered how many he planned on doing.
"They did ask you quite a few, didn't they?" he chuckled. "I'm sorry about that."
"Don't be. They're children an' they're curious. And like you said last night, I'm the first human they've met. O' course they're going to ask me lots of things."
"Well, I appreciate you humorin' them. And I'm glad they didn't ask anything too invasive…you know how little ones don't have the most refined o' filters, after all."
She nodded slightly, having been in the midst of taking another sip of tea. Her eyes fell shut as she enjoyed their closeness. "Aye, that's very true. But now that you've said that, they going t' start askin' me those kind o' questions now," she laughed.
"Well, if they do, I'll dangle them over the soup pot," he grinned.
"Don't forget you have t' dangle them upside down if you have to do that."
"Ah, aye, that's true. It's not quite the same if I'm holdin' them by the hands instead o' the ankles." As Baylee started to laugh harder, he felt his stomach flutter slightly. "Though, Grid an' Buruz are getting a bit too tall for that punishment…I think they'd just grab a spoon and start eatin' the soup instead o' being frightened by it."
"And something tells me that Sanna is the sort who'd just be gigglin' the whole time."
Though he knew she couldn't see it, he nodded. "Aye, you're right—she is the sort who'd do that. Then again, she's also the one who enjoyed it when Thorin held her by the ankles as he spun in circles…"
Baylee giggled hard at that, trying to picture the stern-faced king doing such a silly thing. "I know you're tellin' the truth, but I honestly can't picture him doin' that," she told him. "He seems too…too…"
"Serious?"
"Aye, serious."
"He can be, but he also knows how t' have fun." By now, he had finished weaving six love-knots into her hair, leaving him with just three more to do. "You should see him at feasts—that's when he really loosens up. He's drinkin' an' laughin' an' dancin' an' singing…He's completely different when he's not havin' to be his kingly self. After all, most o' his life was spent workin' among common folk, despite still being a king."
"Really?"
"Aye. I know—it's hard t' believe, but I'm tellin' you the truth." He brushed one of his own braids over his shoulder. "Can the same be said for Bard?"
"Ah, a wee bit, I suppose." Her tea being cool enough to not burn her mouth now, she took a long drink. "It takes a lot more t' get him t' loosen up that much. Even when we were younger, it took a good deal o' wine t' get him dancing an' singing."
"But it is possible, aye?"
"Oh, aye. He just needs a bottle an' a half o' wine or two tankards o' mead. Maybe five tankards o' beer." She quietly giggled. "Just don't give him whiskey."
"Uh-oh. Why's that?"
"Every time I've seen him drink more than two drinks o' the stuff, he was passed out within twenty minutes. The next mornin', he'd wake up with the worst hangover. Not even pickle juice could cure it, it'd be so bad."
His brow rose at that. "Pickle juice cures hangovers? I've never heard o' such a thing."
"Really?" Her own brow rose. "That's strange; I thought everyone knew it?" She then shrugged. "Well, it does help quite a bit, though no one's quite sure why it works. Uncle thinks it has somethin' t' do with the spices that go into the brine."
Starting on the final braid, he chuckled. "I would think the vinegar in it would just make your stomach churn even worse."
"You're supposed t' eat some plain bread or crackers with it for that very reason. Sometimes, though, you can get away with just drinkin' the juice."
"How much juice does it take?"
"Not much. About two drinks worth—at least, for me, that's what it takes."
"An' how many times have you had t' have pickle juice t' cure a hangover?" he asked, a bit of laughter in his voice.
"Not many, thankfully," she chuckled. "I try not t' drink that much anymore, which is why the strongest drink I'll do is wine. I'm such a lightweight, other drinks will knock me on my rump in no time."
He snorted at the thought. "What kind o' drunk do you turn into?" he teased. "I'm going t' bet you're the cuddly sort o' drunk."
She laughed, brow rising. "Am I that predictable?" she joked. "Aye, I'm the cuddly sort. Valar help anyone who's within reach o' me, because I will cling onto them an' start tellin' them all the good things I like about them."
"That doesn't sound the least bit unpleasant," he grinned. "If ever I get t' see you drunk, I'll be sure t' stay nearby."
Her cheeks flushed and a shy smile came to her lips. "You'll have t' be careful, because papa or Will are usually around t' carry my arse off t' bed when I get that way."
Snorting once again, he shook his head. "That's no fun, but I can understand why they do it." With all nine love-knots done, he then started to weave them all into one, singular braid. "I don't get much different when I'm drunk, though my crude humor tends t' come out more. An' I try t' pull pranks on people, apparently."
"Pranks? What kind o' pranks?" she asked with a laugh.
"Really, really strange ones. Like, one time I apparently put an egg into Dwalin's tankard o' beer—just a whole egg, still in its shell. Another time, I managed t' tie Dori an' Gloin's boots together. The dumbest one, really, was when I put an apple in Fili's hood."
"Those all sound likes pranks a child would pull," she giggled. "I bet you were really proud at the time when you accomplished them."
"Oh, I was," he snorted. "An' then the next morning, I was baffled as t' why I even thought about doin' something so stupid." Now finished with her hair, he slid a wooden box out of his pocket and opened it up. Inside was the sunflower necklace from the previous day; the sight of it brought a small smile to his lips. He closed the box once more and tucked it out of sight for a few minutes. "I'm done with your hair, by the way."
As she turned back around to face him, she saw that he was in the middle of sliding his comb back into its holder. "That's an interesting way t' carry a comb," she commented, her head tilting. "Doesn't it ever fall loose?"
He shook his head. "Nope. It's a fairly snug fit, so it takes a bit o' effort t' pull it free." Smiling, he tucked it back under his tunic. "You won't find a single adult dwarf without one o' these on their person at all times."
"I believe it. You lot have t' keep your hair an' beards looking presentable, after all."
A cheeky grin came to his lips and Baylee thought she could see a bit of twinkle of mischief come to his eyes. "Aye, that we do. An' speakin' o' being presentable, I've got somethin' for you."
Her brows furrowed slightly in confusion. "Wh-what?"
"I've got somethin' for you," he repeated, his voice getting a bit chirpy now. "So, close your eyes an' hold out your hands."
"I don't know," she chuckled, her brow now rising. "With how bubbly you just got, I almost feel like this is going t' be some sort of prank." She set her tea on the nightstand.
He snorted. "No, no—I promise it's no trick. I've truly got a present for you, lass." A quiet chuckle left his mouth as he watched her hesitantly close her eyes and hold out her hands just as instructed. Grabbing the box, he then set it on her palms. "Alright. You can look now."
When she opened her eyes and saw the box in her hands, her brow rose once more. Truthfully, since he had brought this up after talking about his comb, she was wondering if he had gotten her one similar to his. But when she opened the box and instead found the necklace, her eyes widened and her jaw fell a bit slack. A few seconds later, her mouth closed and she swallowed hard, carefully lifting the necklace from the box to get a better look at it.
"When you were lookin' in the window o' jewelry shop, I knew that necklace had been the one t' catch your eye," he quietly laughed. "An' since you weren't going t' get it for yourself, I went an' got it for you."
Wearing a tender expression, she looked up at him. "You didn't have to, Bofur," she said, voice a bit soft.
"O' course I didn't have to. I wanted to." He scooted a bit closer and, carefully taking the necklace from her, he moved to fasten it around her neck for her. "I mean, how often does a person come across jewelry shaped like a sunflower, hm?" Once it was clasped, he leaned back and smiled as he admired how it seemed to accentuate her loveliness. "It's the perfect length for you, too—almost like it was made t' be worn by you."
Her cheeks burned and a shy smile came to her lips. She looked down at the necklace for a few seconds before leaning forward and hugging him. "Thank you, Bofur," she murmured, feeling him wrap his arms around her in return.
"You're welcome, lass," he replied, his voice just as soft. After letting the hug linger for a few moments, he finally pulled back. "We should probably get back down t' the kitchen," he said with a chuckle. "If we don't get down there soon, I know Gerdi will be comin' up to see what's going on."
"Too late. I'm already up here."
Baylee squeaked in surprise and Bofur let out a quiet curse as they looked at the doorway. There stood Gerdi, her hands on her hips, Edda strapped to her back, and an amused smile on her lips.
A cheeky grin then came to Bofur's lips. "Good news: Baylee isn't sick!" he told his sister-in-law. "She just didn't want t' wake up."
"I can't say that I blame her," she smiled. "After entertainin' the three wee badgers for a good portion o' the night, anyone would want t' sleep in the next day."
Her cheeks still red, Baylee laughed. "No, no, it wasn't that—this bed is just really comfortable," she said. "My own bed is fairly comfortable, aye, but this one is softer. The blankets are much softer, too."
Gerdi nodded in understanding. "Ah, yes—those are the blankets we got imported from the Red Mountains. The cotton they grow over there is exceptionally soft. If they weren't so expensive, I'd have every bed in the mansion covered in them. Don't worry about foldin' them or anything though, dear. I'll worry about them later."
"Are you sure? I don't mind folded them up," she replied.
"I'm quite sure, dear," she smiled, her tone a bit motherly. "Now, why don't you come down an' get a bite to eat? I'm not going to let either o' you head back to Dale with empty stomachs."
"Are you serious? It really destroyed part o' the bridge?"
"Aye, I'm afraid so, Miss Braddock. I assure you, we're workin' t' get it repaired as quick as we can, but you'll have t' go through one o' the other gates to get into the city."
Baylee let out a heavy sigh and nodded in acquiesce. After traveling just over two hours, she and Bofur had arrived to find a blockade set up about three hundred yards from the eastern bridge leading into the city. "Alright…Well, thanks for stoppin' us before we found out the hard way," she told the soldier, offering him a small smile.
Nodding, the guard turned and headed back to his post.
"So, which gate should we use instead?" Bofur asked, looking up at her. "North or south?" Then, with a teasing grin, he added, "Or maybe west?"
She snorted, her brow rising as she glanced down at him. "South. It's the closest an' it won't take us near the graveyard," she replied. As she spoke, she turned Buttercup to the south. "If we go at a trot, it'll take us about twenty minutes, half that if we go at a canter."
"I think we'll be fine if we go by trot," he said. As Buttercup started to head south, Topaz instinctively followed her, needing no guidance from the dwarf. "It'd also save poor Topaz here a bit o' embarrassment, since he wouldn't have t' get left in Buttercup's dust."
"That's true," she chuckled. "That'd be just rude, us leaving you two behind like that."
Bofur looked up at her again, a smile on his lips. "It's a good thing you're not a rude person, then. Quite the opposite, really. Which reminds me, Bombur an' Gerdi were quite amused by how polite you were at dinner."
"Really? Why's that?"
"Unless we're in the presence o' someone really important or folk o' a different race, what you saw last night was typical dwarvish dining etiquette. Better known as 'Grab what you want t' eat before someone else takes it'."
"No wonder you kept pullin' random plates o' food over an' offering them to me," she laughed.
He nodded, a cheeky grin on his lips. "I just wanted t' make sure you got everything you wanted t' eat."
"Oh, I assure you, I got everythin' and then some. I don't think I've eaten that much in one sitting since I was little."
"I believe it," he chuckled. He turned, reaching back into his saddlebag. "You normally eat like a wee bird, stealin' little bits o' food here an' there throughout the day. Havin' a big meal like that probably left your stomach confused."
She laughed. "You're right about that. What didn't leave it confused was that delicious cake we had for dessert, though."
Bofur snickered. "You do know what kind o' cake that was, don't you lass?"
"A spice cake with raisins?" she questioned, confusion in her voice. She watched as he pulled a box from his saddlebag as well as a tobacco pouch.
"Close." He looked up at her, the cheeky grin still plastered on his face. "What you ate last night was a carrot cake." Watching as her eyes widened, he burst out laughing.
"Are you serious!?" she gaped. "That was actually carrot cake?"
"Aye!" He continued to laugh as he opened the box; Baylee figured it had his pipe in it. "I may have asked Gerdi t' make one while we were out…"
Closing her eyes, she shook her head; despite her reaction, she was giggling. "I can't believe you remembered that I hate carrot cake."
"Most carrot cakes," he corrected. He then nodded at her basket, which Gerdi had, indeed, filled with delicious foods. "If I recall, Gerdi put two slices o' cake in there—one for you an' one for Will."
Baylee let out a very unladylike snort, which made Bofur laugh. "Ooh, Will's going t' be the tougher o' the two o' us to fool," she told him. "He hates carrot cake far more than I do."
"Well, Mister Picky-Palate is about t' love one carrot cake at the very least," he chuckled. Then, guiding Topaz a bit closer to Buttercup, he held his hand up to her; in it, he held a long match and pipe that he had already filled with tobacco. "Here you go, lass. It's my spare pipe, so you don't have t' worry about sharin' the bowl this time around."
Blinking, she then chuckled and took both from him. "Thank you," she said. Putting the stem between her teeth, she dragged the match across the wood of her saddle, watching as it sparked into life. She quickly shielded it with her hand and held it to the bowl of the pipe.
Bofur was doing much the same with his own pipe and, soon, he had a mouthful of sweet, cherry-flavored tobacco. As he exhaled, he turned around, shoving the box and pouch of tobacco back into his saddlebag. Then, glancing up at Baylee, he smiled; her eyes were closed and she had an almost blissful look on her face as she slowly exhaled a mouthful of smoke.
"You said your da' and Will don't like you smokin'," he said after a moment. "If that's the case, then how did you come t' start smokin'?"
"You can blame that on Bard," she answered, chuckling. "After his mum passed, he was gathering up belongings he wanted t' keep while the rest he would sell in order t' make some money, an' he found his father's old pipe. But he didn't want t' try it alone, so he tried to get Prim, Will, an' me to try it with him. Prim and Will declined, but I was curious, so I tried it with him." She took in a pull of smoke and held it in for a few seconds before speaking again. "Obviously, the first time we tried it, it was absolutely horrible, since we didn't have any idea about how t' go about usin' a pipe. The second time around, though, we went t' one o' the village elders an' asked how t' go about it, since we didn't know anyone who smoked. At least, we thought we didn't know anyone—we didn't know my aunt smoked, since she did it in secret."
He snorted, smoke coming out of his nose in a puff. "You know, I wouldn't have thought Bard t' be the sort o' man who enjoys a pipe."
"He used t' smoke them once in a while, but once he got married, he stopped. Somethin' about the smoke made it hard for his late wife t' breathe, even if he had smoked hours ago."
"Hm. I've never heard o' that…but, then again, dwarves don't really get those sorts o' problems." Leaning back in the saddle slightly, he peeked up at her again, finding that her eyes were open once more, but the happy expression still on her face. "From all the stories you've told me about your younger years, it sounds like you an' Bard were thick as thieves."
"That's because we were." She lightly shook her head, quietly laughing. "An' we continued to be well into our adult lives."
Bofur cocked his head at her wording. "You're not anymore?"
She shook her head. "No. We're still close, but…well…" As she sighed, a mouthful of smoke slowly furled from her lips. "Truth be told, Bard and I were in love. He knew it, I knew it, everyone knew it. From what I heard, everyone was convinced we'd end up married. Despite all that, though, for some reason, neither o' us could muster up the courage to tell the other." Stealing a look down at him, she saw a frown on his lips. "But…then the War happened. It—it was a dark time for my family."
"Why? What had happened? Aside from losin' the original Tankard, I mean."
Baylee was quiet for a moment. "I…I'm not quite ready to tell you that part," she told him, her voice soft. She was thankful to see an understanding look come to his features as he nodded.
"Then forget I asked," he told her, voice gentle. Though he was extremely curious about what had happened, he knew better than to ask. Having gone through his own dark time that he wasn't ready to tell her about, he knew that she would tell him in time.
Another quiet sigh left her mouth. "Anyway…Durin' the first three years o' rebuilding, people were pressurin' Bard t' get married so he could make some heirs. As such, he caved in and finally did get married."
His brows furrowed. "…To someone who wasn't you."
She nodded. "Aye. I understand why he did it; I wasn't in a very good place mentally an' he didn't want to put any more stress on my shoulders. But…it still hurt. A lot. What made it worse was that I found out through Prim that he had asked Rowena to be his wife." Shaking her head, she took in another pull and held it for a few seconds. "But, that's in the past. He's apologized profusely, I've moved on, an' we're friends again. As you saw a month or two ago." Her brow rose slightly when she felt Bofur reach up and take hold of her hand.
"Still. I'm sorry you had t' go through that, lass," he told her, his voice gentle. "After that sort o' betrayal, it's a wonder you're not jaded from it. Then again, humans are able t' heal from heartache better than the other races." A reassuring smile came to his lips as his thumb lightly rubbed the back of her hand.
"Has anyone ever told you how much o' a sweetheart you are?" She quietly laughed, her cheeks turning pink.
He feigned a look of thoughtfulness. "Hm, not that I recall…however, I do remember being told how much o' an ass I am at times. Or how much o' a drunken fool I am. Both o' those are used fairly interchangeably." As she started to giggle, he grinned broadly.
"Well, I don't think you're either an ass or a drunken fool," she replied. "Then again, I have yet t' see you drunk." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze before looking ahead of them only to find that they were crossing the southern bridge. "Oh. Would you look at that: We're already at the gate."
Bofur turned his gaze ahead of them as well. "Ah, so we are," he chuckled. Reluctantly, he let go of her hand so that he could hold Topaz's reins with both hands. "That didn't feel like twenty minutes—felt more like five."
"I've heard time can fly when you're in good company," she smiled. She, too, had felt a bit hesitant to let go of his hand, but knew it was for the best.
"Oh? Well, then it's no wonder time flew so fast: I'm in the presence o' excellent company." He watched as her cheeks turned a bit pink, which only made him smile more.
A comfortable silence fell between the two of them as their steeds took them across the bridge and through the southern gate. Up the gently sloping street they rode; due to it being the lunch hour, the streets were fairly empty. Bofur had never been in this portion of the city before; as such, he looked around with interest.
As their horses rounded a corner, he could see that this block was primarily made up of one blue-and-white-striped building. Looking at its sign, he saw that it was shaped like a chicken with its wings outspread and, painted in bright, yellow letters below were the words 'The Flying Hen.' His brow rose; the name was familiar to him.
"Lass, isn't that the inn you said is owned by your da's rival?" he questioned, pointing at the building.
Glancing over, Baylee scrunched her nose up. "Aye, that's Mannus' place," she answered, the distaste clear in her voice. "It'd be a fairly nice establishment if it just had a different—"
She was cut off as the door to the inn was suddenly flung open. A burlap sack filled with something was thrown out into the street, startling the horses a bit. The two then watched in horror as a tall, redheaded woman was practically thrown out of the building by a middle-aged man. She fell into the street, a yelp of pain leaving her mouth; Baylee hurriedly dismounted Buttercup with Bofur following suit shortly after.
"How dare you humiliate me like that in front o' our customers!" the man shouted. "An' then I find out that you're whorin' yourself out to that freakshow o' a Bra—" He suddenly went quiet as Baylee and Bofur appeared at Adela's side, helping her to her feet. "Ah, good day, Miss Braddock," he then said, his voice having changed from angered shouting to calm talking. "It's been quite some time since I last saw you. I do apologize for you havin' t' wit—"
"Shut it, Mannus," Baylee snapped, the coldness of her words taking Bofur by surprise. She looked back at Adela and gently took her hands; she turned them over to find that her palms were scraped up and starting to bleed. A quiet curse left her mouth. "Stay with her, Bofur," she quietly told the dwarf.
He nodded, watching as Baylee stormed over to Mannus.
"Just what in the world do you think you're doin', throwing Adela out into the street like that?" she demanded. "What could she have possibly done that warrants such treatment, hm?"
Mannus chuckled, an innocent smile coming to his lips; even from where Bofur stood, though, he could see that there was nothing genuine about it. "Miss Braddock, I assure you, she completely deserves it," he told her. Something about the way he said the words 'Miss Braddock' didn't sit well with Bofur. There was an almost…lustful quality to them. "She's humiliated me in front o' my customers by accusin' me—her own father—o' taking money from my own establishment—"
"Because you have!" Adela cried. "I don't know where you're hidin' it, but I've seen you takin' coins from the register an' slippin' them into your pocket when you think no one's lookin'!"
Mannus took a threatening step forward and pointed a stern finger at her, watching as she shrank back. Baylee, though, didn't move an inch, keeping him from getting close to Adela. "How dare you continue t' spread such filthy lies, you wretch! If you think I'm ever going to welcome you back—"
"You've been tellin' the hosts an' cooks for months that they have t' take a pay cut because business hasn't been good when you're just stealin' their hard-earned pay!" Adela all but shouted.
"Wouldn't surprise me, given how much o' a miser you are," Baylee retorted. Once more, Bofur was left shocked by how cold her voice was; he knew she disliked the man, but he didn't know just how much she disliked him. "Still, bein' accused o' such a thing is not nearly enough t' warrant treatin' your daughter like scum."
"Ah, yes, but I wasn't finished, Miss Braddock. You see, Adela's also been wanderin' off at night, sullyin' the good family name by whoring herself—"
Adela interjected, "I was not whoring myself—"
"Whoring herself off t' some—t' some immoral scoundrel!" he finished, his tone more than a little accusatory as he glanced at his daughter.
"Oh, so now my brother's an 'immoral scoundrel'? What's changed in the last five minutes that's made your opinion go from him bein' a 'freakshow o' a Braddock' to him bein' an 'immoral scoundrel', hm?" She glared up at the man.
"B-Baylee, you don't need…" Adela started to say, but she quickly fell silent again as Mannus shot her a dark glare. Now that a few minutes had passed, Bofur could see a large, red welt in the shape of a hand forming on her cheek. He stole a look at the door of the inn; there were people peeking out from it as well as the windows, watching the exchange take place.
Mannus shook his head. "Miss Braddock, I can't expect you t' understand the full story when you weren't there t' witness it, therefore I forgive your displaced anger—"
"I don't need t' have witnessed it," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "There's a whole room o' people just past that door there that you haven't had the chance t' pay off yet. I'm sure a few o' them would be willin' t' tell me what happened."
A displeased frown came to his lips, though it quickly turned into an amused smirk when he looked down at her. There was an unnerving mixture of delight and desire in his eyes that made Bofur want to run forward and punch him. "Miss Braddock, are you aware o' just how much you look an' sound like your mother right now?" he then asked, his tone strangely fond and gentle. His eyes locked with hers and his head tilted somewhat, an almost trance-like look on his face. Unconsciously, his hand rose up and started to reach towards her, but he was brought out of his trance as Baylee smacked his hand away with surprising strength.
"Don't you touch me," she snarled. "Y-you have no right t' talk about my mother," she scolded. She did her best to hide the fear she suddenly felt; the way he was looking at her in combination with the way he so fondly compared her to her mother greatly disturbed her. "Especially when we're discussin' Adela."
"Adela's no concern o' mine anymore," he told her. "She's no daughter o' mine anymore. I should have known she'd betray me one day—just like her wretched brother and her pathetic mother."
"The only pathetic one here is you, Mannus," Baylee hissed. "Is this you formally declarin' Adela disowned?"
"O' course I am," he said, snapping out of his small trance. He glared past her at Adela, not caring that she had tears streaming down her face or that her skirt was now torn in places. "I have no children." Turning, he stormed back inside the inn, letting the door slam shut.
Shaking her head, Baylee returned to Adela's side. "C'mon, love, let's get you t' the Tankard," she said, her voice gentle as she started to lead the taller woman towards her horse. "We'll get your hands cleaned up an' get you some tea, alright?"
Adela could only manage a nod, her crying having gotten harder. With some effort, she was able to climb into the saddle; unlike Baylee's dress, her was flowy enough that she could sit astride rather than aside.
"Here's her bag, lass," Bofur said, his voice a bit quiet as he brought over the burlap sack. "I didn't look inside, but it feels like there's clothes in it."
Baylee nodded, taking the bag from him. "Thank you," she sighed. "I'm sorry you had t' see all that."
He shook his head. "Don't be. I know I didn't do much, but I'd rather be here an' do nothing than not be here an' find out later that you got hurt or something." He gave her a small smile, setting his hand on her arm; it was then he came to realize that she was shaking. The smile turned into a concerned frown. "Lass, you're shakin' like crazy…"
"I'm fine," she assured him. "It's just my nerves. I hate that man so much…" Sighing, she glanced over her shoulder at Adela. "Bofur, could you do me a favor?"
"You want me t' go fetch Will from the shop?"
She blinked, surprised that he already knew what she was going to ask. "Aye…I think he's who she needs most right now."
"Aye, he is," he agreed. He reached over, taking her hand and giving it a small squeeze. "I'll meet you back at the inn as soon as I can."
"Thank you," she said, a smile coming to her lips.
"It's no trouble, lass." He gave her hand a second little squeeze before moving to go mount Topaz.
Going back over to Buttercup, Baylee hauled herself up into the saddle, hooking her knee around the horn once more. It was a bit of a tight fit with Adela; her saddle had been custom-made for her, so it was smaller than most. And with how curvy Adela was, she was admittedly surprised both of them could fit on it at the same time.
"Bofur's goin' t' fetch Will," she told Adela once Buttercup started to walk. "The shop isn't too far from the inn, so it shouldn't take him long t' get there."
"Th-thank you, Baylee," she choked out. She used her sleeve in a futile attempt to wipe the tears from her face. "I'm—I'm sorry you had t' witness all o' that."
"It's not your fault, love," she said, glancing over her shoulder at her. Rather than take the main road back to the Tankard, Baylee steered Buttercup down a side street. She didn't want a lot of people to see Adela in this state; they had been extremely lucky that no one had been in the street when Mannus threw her out.
With the streets as empty as they were, Baylee urged Buttercup to go at a fast trot; they were at the Full Tankard within ten minutes. Hearing the clopping of horse hooves, Peter came out of the stable to greet them, though he frowned as he saw Adela.
"Wh-what happened?" he questioned, his brows furrowing. Since Baylee was too short to help, he moved to help Adela down.
"I'll explain later," Baylee sighed. "I need to get her inside first."
He nodded in understanding, taking Buttercup's lead and guiding her into the stables.
Setting her hand on Adela's arm, Baylee started to guide her towards the kitchen door. They had just reached the steps when the door opened, startling both of them. Warren stood there, a look of concern on his face and a blanket in hand; he had seen them coming from the front windows and, seeing the state Adela was in, he knew exactly what had happened.
He came down the steps and carefully wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. "Come on, lass," he said, his voice gentle as he took over guiding her. "Let's get you inside."
"Her hands got scraped up when she fell," Baylee told him as she followed them up the stairs and into the kitchen.
Warren nodded in understanding. "I'll need a bowl o' warm water with some honey in it as well as a clean cloth," he instructed. "An' get her some tea, too. Somethin' calming."
"I'll handle the tea," Wenna said, already crossing the kitchen to look through the tea tins.
"I'll get the honey," Gawen added, heading for the pantry.
A heavy sigh left Baylee's mouth as she watched Warren and Adela head out of the kitchen through the back way. While part of her wondered how her father was going to react once Will got there, another part of her wondered more about what was going to happen to Adela now. Would her father let her stay at the Tankard? Or, being that Primrose was her cousin, would she go stay with her mother and the rest of her family?
"Baylee? What happened t' the poor dear?" Galiene questioned, her brows furrowed in confusion.
Rubbing the side of her neck, she let out another sigh. "Mannus disowned her…He literally threw her out o' the inn an' into the street."
Wenna's jaw fell slack. "Wh-what?" she stammered after a moment. "Why would he do—"
Before she could finish, Primrose, Rosamunde, and Rosalyn came bursting into the kitchen, their faces pale and their eyes wide. Seeing Baylee, they rushed over to her, needing answers.
"What's wrong with Adela?" Rosalyn demanded.
"An' why is she here?" Rosamunde questioned.
"Let Baylee breathe," Primrose gently scolded, though her worry was all too evident in her voice. "She'll be no good to us if you're smothering her like this." She looked back at her friend, seeing that she was a bit paler than normal as well; whether it was from the shock of suddenly having three Lightfoots surrounding her or because of what had happened to their cousin, she didn't know.
"Mannus disowned her," Baylee answered. "He literally threw her out o' the inn and into the street." As the three women gasped in horror, she continued talking. "He says she humiliated him in front o' his patrons. I doubt anythin' happened in front of them, but Adela did say that she caught him stealing from the register box an' that she called him out on it." For now, she thought it best to not bring up how Mannus found out about Adela and Will's rendezvouses.
"Wh-what?!" Primrose yelped, her eyes wide. "But—But she's the only family he has left! He's already disowned Ned and got divorced from Aunt Hilda!"
Rosalyn shook her head. "He's not part o' the family anymore, so I couldn't care two licks about him. I'm worried about Adela." She looked at Baylee. "Can we go see her?"
"I think it'd be best t' wait a little bit before you do," Baylee answered. "She's…she's quite the wreck right now an' papa's got to clean her palms. They got scraped up in her fall."
Though they didn't seem entirely pleased by this answer, the sisters nodded in unison.
"How did you find this out?" Rosamunde then asked, brows furrowed. "Did she tell you?"
"…Bofur an' I witnessed the whole thing, sadly. We had t' come through the southern gate, since the storm damaged the eastern bridge." She rubbed the side of her neck again. "I…didn't really know where t' take her, which is why she's here. I thought the Tankard would be the last place Mannus would want t' come if he wanted to try and yell at her more or something."
Rosamunde nodded in understanding. "You did well, Baylee," she sighed. "You're right. She probably is safest here, even if mother and father have no love for Mannus an' wouldn't let him near our home."
"Once she's had time t' calm down, though, one of us should go fetch Aunt Hilda," Primrose told them. She ran a hand over her hair, sighing. "She'll want t' know for certain."
"I will," Rosalyn volunteered. "I'm the fastest."
"Sorry t' interrupt," Wenna said, "but the tea and honey water are ready."
Baylee nodded. "Thanks, Wenna," she said, a small, tired smile coming to her lips. Excusing herself, she took both the bowl and mug from Wenna before also heading out of the kitchen through the back way. A small frown came to her lips as she walked; she didn't have a key to the private quarters. 'Oh well,' she thought. 'It wouldn't be the first time I'd have to knock.'
But, she didn't have to knock. As she rounded the corner, she saw Will fumbling to get his key in the lock. He was breathing heavily and he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
"D-did you run here, Will?" she frowned.
He looked up, a mixture of anger and worry in his eyes. "O' course I did," he said, his attention returning to the lock. "As soon as Bofur told me what happened, I bolted from the shop." Getting the key into the lock, he hurriedly twisted it around a few times before the familiar 'clink' of it unlocking could be heard. Yanking the key back out, he flung open the door and hurried in.
Baylee let out a small squeak and, dashing forward, used her foot to catch the heavy door before it could shut. She then used her hip to push it open a bit wider and slipped inside. Approaching the living room, she could see that Will was on his knees in front of one of the chairs with Adela practically in his lap as she clung onto him. Biting her lower lip, she glanced over at Warren, finding a slight bit of confusion on his face.
Spotting his daughter, he went over to her. "She told me what happened," he sighed, taking the bowl and tea from her. "I have half a mind t' go over there right now and hit the git, but I won't."
"I…scolded him a fair bit," Baylee admitted, bringing a small frown to her father's lips. "I-I know I should have kept my mouth shut an' just brought her back here, but he made me so mad. I had t' do something."
"I'm just glad Bofur was with you. If he wasn't, I don't want t' think about what would have happened."
"There might've been a Stover skewered to my new spear, that's what," she grumbled.
His brow rose in amusement; there were very few people in the world that could bring out his daughter's violent side (not that she had much of one) and Mannus was at the top of that list. Shaking his head, he looked back over at Will and Adela. "So…how long as your brother been secretly seein' her?" He glanced back at Baylee, a small smile coming to his lips when he saw her shocked expression. "You can't tell me there's nothin' going on between the two o' them when Will came rushin' in like that."
Her cheeks pinked slightly. "T-to be honest, I'm not quite sure," she admitted. It was the truth—while Will had told her how long he had been courting Adela, she had forgotten how long it was. "I only found out about them recently."
He nodded slowly. "Well…I'm disappointed he didn't tell me, but I'm glad she has someone's shoulder t' cry on." Another sigh left his mouth. "I'll talk to him about it later. An' later, you'll tell me how your overnight trip was." He gave her a small smile only to have his brow rise once more when he saw the necklace around her neck; Baylee wasn't the sort to buy herself jewelry, which meant it could have come from only one other person.
'…It seems I'll need to have a talk with her and Will tonight,' he told himself.
"I'm goin' to go get my things from Buttercup," Baylee then said, drawing him from his thoughts. "Do you want me t' leave my spear in the stables or is it alright if I bring it in here?"
"Bring it in here, love. Your aunt will want t' see it." He turned, moving to go tend to Adela's hands.
Also turning, Baylee headed back towards the door; before she left, she made sure to grab one of the spare keys, putting it around her neck. Then, leaving the private quarters, she made her way out to the stables only to find Bofur just arriving.
"How's the lass doin'?" he asked, concern on his face.
"I think she's doin' a wee bit better now that Will's with her," she told him, watching as he dismounted. "Uncle's not here, so papa's going to get her hands cleaned up."
He nodded in understanding. "Good, good…Poor thing." Shaking his head, he cursed under his breath. "While I had been curious about how much o' a git that bloke was, I wish I had found out in a different fashion," he murmured.
She walked alongside him as he started to lead Topaz into the stables. "Aye…He's a creep an' a git."
"Creep is right. It took a good deal o' restraint t' keep myself from pummeling the git into the ground when I saw him try t' touch your face." Glancing over at her, his frown grew slightly; she was shaking again—or had she not stopped? "Lass, you alright?" he asked, his voice quiet.
"Aye. Just…a lot happened in a short amount o' time." She gave him a reassuring smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"You sure? You look like you could use a hug."
Her smile turned gentle and she softly chuckled. "Whether I felt alright or not, I could always use one o' your hugs."
Bofur felt his cheeks flush red, but he smiled and, letting go of Topaz's lead, he turned towards the lass. As he wrapped his arms around her, she closed her eyes and rested her chin on his shoulder. A quiet sigh of content left his mouth and his hand rose up to rest on the back of her head while the other gently rubbed her back. Despite being a good four inches taller than him, Baylee always felt small in his arms and, because of that—especially after their encounter with Mannus earlier—he wanted nothing more than to protect her.
'Aulë help me if she chooses Rán over me,' he thought, daring to turn his head and kiss her temple, 'because holding her feels so damned right…'
"When were you plannin' on telling me about you an' Adela?"
"Ah…" Will rubbed the back of his neck, his face as red as a beet. "Soon…ish…?" he said, though it was all too obvious he wasn't actually sure when he had planned to tell his father.
Warren's brow rose as he looked at his son, who had his arm wrapped around Adela's shoulders. She was curled up beside him, a blanket draped over her as she slept. "You weren't plannin' on telling me any time soon, then."
Will frowned. "I promise I was going to tell you. I just…I just needed to come up with a way to gently break the news t' you."
"Lad, there would have been nothin' t' be gentle about." While his voice was soft, there was also an air of disappointment to it that made Will's stomach fill with guilt. "Adela isn't Mannus—I have no problems with her. Never have; I wouldn't be lettin' her stay an' work here if I did."
Rubbing the back of his neck, Will glanced away from Warren. "I'm sorry, da'," he murmured. "I was just…I was just scared. I love Adela so much and I didn't want t' risk possibly losing her or losin' you."
Warren nodded slowly in understanding, a sigh leaving his mouth. "Well, now you don't have t' worry about either o' those happening," he assured him. "You've got my blessin' to openly court her."
A small grin came to Will's lips and he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Baylee came walking in with a tray of mugs. "Two teas an' a hot, spiced cider," she smiled, handing one cup to her father before going over and handing another to Will. The third she took for herself and rested the tray against the side of the couch. With her tea in hand, she went over to her chair and curled up in it.
"How was your stay in Erebor?" Warren asked, amused by how she nestled herself down in the chair. It was a gift from Will from a few years ago, having been custom-made to her size. It had big, soft cushions that she sank down into while also being wide enough that she could bring her legs up and still have room to relax.
Will nodded in agreement. "Aye, I was going t' ask you about that earlier, but you went straight into workin' before I got the chance." There was a mischievous look in his eyes, but Baylee didn't notice it.
"Quite nice, actually," she replied, holding her tea in both hands. "There wasn't much sightseein', being that a lot o' the places he wanted to show me were either fully or partially outside, but he did show me around the market quite a bit. An' when we went to pick up my spear this mornin', he took me t' see some glassblowers." She started to blow across the top of her tea.
"A glassblower?" Warren repeated, brow rising.
"Mhm. He mentioned them to me a few weeks ago while I was putting bread in the oven. I've never seen a glassblower, so he told me he'd take me t' see one someday." She took a sip of the tea, enjoying the warmth it carried down into her belly.
He nodded in understanding. "An' where did you end up stayin' the night?"
"At the Ur mansion. They have plenty o' guestrooms, so Bofur gave me one that overlooked the storm." A quiet chuckle left her mouth before her eyes widened. "Oh! You should see the fancy stove Bombur an' Gerdi have for cookin'! It's huge!"
Will and Warren exchanged amused glances. "Oh?" questioned the former. "We've got a huge stove, too, you know."
"No, no, no—this one was a big metal box with a coal fire inside o' it to do the heatin'! An' it had all these different spots on the top for puttin' pots an' pans. All those spots also had removable bits, so if you needed the pan or pot t' get hotter, you just pop off the hot plate an' put it directly over the heat! It even has a little oven an' a big ol' drawer for heatin' water!"
Warren looked intrigued as he laughed, his brow rising. "How big was it?"
"Theirs looked like it could fit in our kitchen fireplace with just a wee bit o' room t' spare," she answered. "But since it's got so much space up top, it's got far more room for cookin'."
"Sounds a bit dangerous to me," Will said. He took a drink of his cider. "If it's a giant metal box with fire in it, it'd be easy t' burn yourself."
"Not any more than with our hearth," Baylee told him. "If anything, it's safer, since there are no open flames or coals t' worry about." She took another sit of her tea, sighing quietly in content.
Warren nodded slowly in understanding, scratching his beard. "Hm. That may be somethin' to look into," he admitted. "I know you lasses are always complaining about there not being enough room on that hearth come the busy season…Now, I'm not makin' any promises. I'm just sayin' it's worth looking into."
She nodded in understanding. "Aye, I know," she chuckled.
Taking a drink of his cider, Warren shifted slightly in his chair, bringing his feet up to rest on a cushioned stool. "Where'd that shiny trinket on your neck come from, by the way?"
Will's brow rose as he looked over at his sister in time to see her pick up the pendant. He watched as a fond smile came to her lips and his brow rose; it took a good deal of willpower for him to not start grinning like a fool.
"Bofur got it for me," she answered, her thumb running over the stones. "It's pretty, isn't it? O' all things t' find on display…"
Warren and Will exchanged intrigued looks. "Do you know why he got it for you, love?" Warren questioned.
"Well…he said that it was too perfect for me not t' have," she answered, her cheeks reddening. "You know, since I love sunflowers so much." She tried to hide her blush behind her mug by taking a drink of tea.
"Makes sense," Will said with a small shrug. "Oh, I forgot t' mention earlier: I really like how you did your hair today." As he sipped his own tea, he could see her cheeks growing redder. "I'm surprised you put so many braids in. You're normally the type t' do two at most. How many did you put in today?"
Baylee cleared her throat. "Ah…they would also be Bofur's doin'," she admitted. "I'm not sure how many he put in. Give me a second." She gathered up her hair and brought it over her shoulder before counting the individual braids. "Nine," she finally said.
Warren's eyes widened and he was just barely able to keep himself from choking on his cider. Across from him, Will was quietly snickering to himself while to his left, Baylee was wearing a rather confused look.
"What's so funny?" she questioned, her brows furrowing. "Look, I know braiding is considered flirtin' among dwarves, but—"
"What do the braids look like, 'Lee?" Warren interjected.
She frowned. "I'm…not sure." Looking down at her hair, she found the plaits of the braids to be short and fat, almost like little hearts. She also noticed that they were the same sort of braid Rán had put in her hair a few days ago. "They look like cute little hearts," she answered. When she looked back at her father, she found him staring at her in shock. "What? What's wrong?"
"Bofur put love-knots in your hair," Will grinned. "They're a special braid the dwarves use t' flirt and to let other dwarves know t' stay away from their person."
"How do you know about love-knots?" Warren questioned, his brows furrowing.
"The lads explained them to me the other day," Will answered. "Rán had put six love-knots in her hair an' Bofur wasn't too pleased by it."
Upon hearing this, Baylee's cheeks turned bright red. "Wh-wh-what?" she stammered. "You mean these aren't normal braids?!" Looking down at her hair once more, she bit her lower lip as she studied the braids. Now that she knew they were love-knots, their heart shape made sense.
Warren let out a heavy sigh as he rubbed his face with his hand. "Love-knots are used by dwarves t' both flirt an' mark their territory in a way." He thought it best to not tell her that the numbers were significant just yet and the look he threw Will signaled him to not tell her either. "So…from the sounds o' it, Bofur and Rán are both trying to claim you as their own." His brow then rose, a fatherly expression coming to his face.
"W-well, that I knew," she murmured, glancing away as she rubbed the side of her neck. "But I didn't know about the love-knot thing."
"You…knew those two were fightin' over you?" Will questioned, his brow rising.
She nodded. "Aye…I've known it for a little while now."
"And you're not doing anything about it?" Warren asked. "Baylee, you shouldn't be stringin' them along like that! That's incredibly—"
Her lips pursed in a pout as she interrupted him. "I am not stringing anyone alone, papa!" she scolded. "I know they both fancy me. The problem is, I fancy both o' them." She then bit her lower lip and looked down into her tea, suddenly feeling small and shy. "I've been tryin' to figure out which lad I like more, but it's been hard. Especially since they're both so sweet an' handsome."
Warren looked at his daughter pityingly. "I…I didn't know you had started t' fancy either o' them, 'Lee. I didn't know you were fancyin' anyone, to be honest."
A sigh left her mouth as she sunk down in her chair slightly. "If it's any consolation, I didn't even really know I was crushin' on them until recently. It took talkin' to Prim to figure it out." She rubbed the side of her neck, her palm quite warm thanks to having held her mug of tea. "But, like I said, I've been trying to see who I like more. It's a wee bit hard, attempting t' spend equal amounts o' time with them in order to form any decisions, though."
"Well, whatever you do, don't ask for auntie's opinion," Will warned.
Both Warren and Baylee frowned. "Aye, that'd be a bad idea," Warren agreed. "She'd tell you t' go for the ranger, regardless if you loved him or not. He's a better pick, societal-wise."
"But Bofur's a literal hero o' Erebor," his son countered. "How is that not better societal-wise? He personally knows the king, for pity's sake!"
"Erebor isn't Dale; their status as heroes doesn't apply here, so Bofur's just a simple toymaker. An' don't forget how much your aunt despises Thorin an' his company. If she found out about the lads bein' part of it…" He shook his head. "I hate t' say it, but if she did find out about the lads, she may disown Baylee on the spot if she chose Bofur."
Still frowning, Baylee looked down into her mug and bit her lower lip. She had almost forgotten how much her aunt valued appearances above all else. 'I'm not going to let her influence my decision, though,' she thought, sipping her tea. 'I'm going to pick who my heart wants, not who society wants.' Shaking her head again, she let out a soft sigh. "I think I'm goin' to head to bed," she told Warren and Will. "It's been a long day."
The two males nodded in understanding as she slipped out of the chair. "Alright, love. I hope you sleep well," said Warren.
"G'night, 'Lee," Will smiled. "Oh, before you go, I really recommend lookin' out at the moon. It's real eerie tonight."
She smiled, her brow rising. "You can see the moon through all those clouds?"
"They've been slowly leaving throughout the day. There are enough, though, that they make the moon look really eerie, but pretty."
"I'll be sure t' look at it then," she chuckled. "Goodnight, you two."
"Goodnight, 'Lee."
Walking down the hall towards her room, she took another sip of her tea. She knew it would be awhile before she'd be able to get to sleep; her mind was racing with too many thoughts. Thoughts about Adela and what was going to happen to her now. Thoughts about Mannus and how creepy he had been towards her, even when she was being the epitome of rude. Thoughts about Rán, who she had heard was badly injured but learned it too late to go see him. Thoughts about Bofur and how lovely a time she had had with him; she wouldn't mind spending another day with him…
Opening the door to her room, she cocked her brow. When she had left the previous day, she had left her curtains shut. But now, the curtains on her south-facing window were thrown wide open. Enough moonlight spilled into the room that she was able to see fairly well and, after a cursory look around, she found that nothing was out of place. However, on her dresser, she did find something new: A little watering can.
She set her tea down on her nightstand before walking over to her dresser and, picking up the watering can, she found it to be filled with water. "Why are you here, I wonder?" she murmured.
Going over to the window, she first peered out of the glass. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. With her brow still raised, she lifted the window open before sticking her head out. Nothing different out—
"Wh-what's this?" she murmured out loud, looking down at the window box of dwarf sunflowers. The sight of the small flowers almost instantly brought a smile to her lips. "Where did you cuties come from?" Leaning over, she gently ran her fingers over the petals. Her head then tilted when she noticed a something a bit strange hiding among the little flowers. Carefully lifting the thing up, she found it was a soggy piece of paper.
She took some care as she laid it out on her windowsill, not wanting to rip it. Once she had it smoothed out, she saw that it had no words. Instead, there were three little pictures: A sunflower with a smiling face, a happy face with a cheeky grin and part of the face covered in graphite—Will—and another happy face with a large grin, silly hat, and upturned pigtails—Bofur.
Warmth started to fill her chest and she smiled tenderly. "Those sweethearts…"