Just as the Tankard's staff had anticipated, by mid-afternoon, the common room was at maximum capacity. Despite there being so many people, however, it was fairly quiet—no meals were being ordered, just small things like bread and cheese or a bowl of nuts (and, of course, plenty of drinks). Baylee and Wenna knew full well this was both because they wanted to seem civilized in front of the dwarven prince while also keeping their bellies empty for Galiene's roast hog that would be finished soon.

For now, however, the two lasses were taking a breather. Rather than sit outside, they had gone into the laundry room. It had once been a one-story home with multiple rooms, but when it had been added onto the Tankard, all the unnecessary interior walls had been removed, as well as a good portion of the south-facing wall. In the place of the latter, a covered balcony had been built, ropes strung across the width for drying clothes on.

"So, you said you wanted t' talk with me?" Baylee asked, hopping up to sit on the stone wall of one of the washing kettles.

Wenna hopped up on the wall of the second kettle. "Aye. Earlier, when you were tellin' us about your kisses with Rán an' with Bofur—"

"I wasn't very descriptive?" she interjected with a small laugh. "I'm not exactly the most experienced when it comes t' describing that sort o' thing, you know."

Playfully rolling her eyes, Wenna snorted. "Aye, I noticed that all too well. But I also noticed somethin' else."

Her brows furrowed somewhat. "An' what would that be?"

"When Prim asked you if Rán's kisses had love in them, too…you sounded a bit hesitant when you told us that there was."

Baylee bit her lower lip and she glanced away from her friend. "…Oh."

"Oh?" Her brow rose in a mixture of concern and confusion. "What is 'oh' supposed t' mean, 'Lee?"

A heavy sigh left her mouth. "Don't get me wrong—there is love in his kisses. There's plenty o' love! But like I said, there's also what feels like hunger an' patience. With Bofur's kiss, though…it was nothin' but love." As she spoke, she had unconsciously picked up her necklace and started to fiddle with it. "B-but I mean, they're the only two blokes I've ever kissed, so there's a strong chance I could be readin' the kisses wrong."

Wenna gave her a knowing, but playful, smile. "Or, that's you tryin' t' cover for the fact that you're goin' to be pickin' Bofur regardless o' what happens when you spend that day with Rán."

Her eyes widening, Baylee turned to look at Wenna once more. "Wh-what?! N-No, o' course not! Like I said, I'm goin' to be waitin' until after that day t' make up my mind. After all, there are so many different things that I have t' take into account about getting' into a relationship with either o' them…"

Shaking her head, Wenna gave her a knowing look. "'Lee, I've seen the way you look at Bofur an' I've seen the way he looks at you. You might have Prim fooled into thinkin' you're truly indecisive, but I know better. You've already made up your mind an' your heart's going t' Bofur."

She let out a defeated sigh; she knew she was too bad at lying to get away with this. "Alright, alright…You're right. I am pickin' Bofur. B-But, I do still want t' give Rán that day! You never know; somethin' may happen that'll change my mind. I just want t' be fair, you know?"

"Aye, I know. That's just how you are." She chuckled, pulling a knee to her chest and resting her chin atop it. "I have t' say, though…You only met Bofur about four months ago an' you've already fallen this hard for him."

"I know. I'm confused by it, too. It took Bard an' me years t' develop feelings for one another, so you'd think the same would happen with me an' Bofur. But…" She shook her head. "The kisses I shared with him this morning—absolutely everything about them just felt so…so right." She let out a heavy sigh and copied her friend by pulling a knee to her chest. "I don't know. Maybe Mahal's also the Valar o' love?" As Wenna started to giggle, she frowned. "What? What's so funny?"

"You just called Aulë 'Mahal' like the lads do," she giggled, her brow rising. "Next, you'll be speakin' Khuzdul or startin' t' sprout yourself a beard."

"I think I'm more likely t' grow a beard than I am t' learn Khuzdul," Baylee snorted. "It's a language crafted for the dwarfs an' only the dwarves. Iglishmêk, on the other hand, is perfectly alright for me t' know." She brushed her braid over her shoulder. "…We should probably head back in. With the inn as busy as it is, I don't want t' leave Prim an' her sisters alone for too long."

Nodding in agreement, Wenna slid off the kettle. "At least if it got truly chaotic, they've got Adela in there t' help them."

"Aye. Havin' so much help, especially on nights like this. Come t' think o' it, I don't think the Tankard's ever had this many hostesses at once." She opened the door, letting Wenna step outside first so she could lock the door behind them.

"Isn't this the most amount o' staff the Tankard's had in general?" she chuckled, her brow rising. She turned, looking across the courtyard to see that Gawen, Will, and Warren were starting to dig up the hog. "Ooh, it looks like dinner's goin' t' be done soon."

Baylee grinned. "An' after that, there'll be music an' dancin', I'm sure." They started to make their way to the kitchen door, being sure to avoid the dirt that was being shoveled out of the pit. She then took in a deep breath through her nose only to let out a wistful sigh. "That hog may be buried under a bunch o' dirt an' cloth sacks, but it sure does smell tasty."

Copying her, Wenna nodded in agreement. "It really does," she grinned. "And, luckily, it's big enough that I know we'll be able t' get some o' the crispy skin."

"You can have the skin. I want the jowl meat." She walked up the steps and opened the door. "That's the most tender part o' a hog, after all. You barely have t' chew—it practically melts in your mouth!"

Galiene glanced over. "Sounds like someone's gettin' a bit eager for dinner," she smiled. "Have the boys gotten the hog unearthed yet?"

"Not quite. They looked like they were halfway down when we saw them just now," Baylee told her.

She and Wenna crossed the kitchen, both grabbing a large serving platter before leaving the kitchen to go see if anyone needed anything in the common room. To their great surprise, the common room was still fairly quiet and calm. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits, for which the hostesses were thankful.

They also found Bofur making his way back towards the private dining room, his arms laden with toys and a mischievous grin on his lips.

"What've you got there, Bofur?" Wenna asked, her brows furrowing in curiosity.

"The wee prince an' princess are feelin' bored, so I thought I'd get them some toys t' play with," he explained. "A bit o' product testin', if you would." His grin grew a bit wider when Baylee laughed.

"I'm sure the two o' them will really appreciate the distraction," she told him. "Especially since they can't be runnin' around with such a full inn. I'm sure they're bored t' tears."

"Not quite that bored—at least, when I last saw them they weren't," he chuckled. "By now, though? They might be."

"Are you lads in need o' anything, by the way?" Wenna asked. "Drink refills, more snacks…?"

He shook his head. "Miss Rosalyn just filled our mugs for us, but thank you," he told her.

"Alright. Just give us a holler if you do need somethin'," Wenna chuckled before she and Baylee headed off.

Shifting the toys slightly, Bofur continued back to the private room. Sitting at the end of the table closest to the door were Sigrid and Bain, both looking bored out of their minds. At the opposite end, Fili was talking with Bard about political matters while the rest of the dwarves were catching up with Dwalin.

"I don't think I've ever seen a pair o' kids look as bored as you two," he said to the prince and princess. "I've got a few things t' fix that, though." As he spoke, he set the toys down on the table, taking a few seconds to set them upright in a line.

Their eyes widening in shock, the siblings sat up a bit straighter and big smiles came to their faces. "Those are for—are for us?" Sigrid gawked, drawing the attention of the adults.

"Aye, they are, lassie! I'm not sure what the two o' you like t' play with, so I brought down an assortment o' them."

Picking up a toy horse that had a little crank wheel attached to it, Bain curiously started to turn the wheel. He gasped loudly when, as he turned it, the legs of the horse started to move as a real horse's legs would move. "Where did you get all o' these, Mister Bofur?"

"Bifur an' I made them," he told them. Seeing that Sigrid was trying to reach for a toy shaped like a bunny, he turned it to face her. Then, pressing down on its tail, he let go and watched as it took a hop towards the girl.

"Ooh! Papa, look! It bounces—It bounces like a real bunny!" There was a wide grin on her face as she started to make the toy hop all over her side of the table.

"I see that," Bard chuckled, his brow rising. "It even looks like a real bunny." Leaning forward a bit so he could check on Bain, he saw that his son was entranced by a toy soldier with a key in its back. The soldier was currently marching forward, but its steps were getting slower and slower until, finally, it stopped.

Bain quickly grabbed it and wound it up again, grinning as it started to march once more.

"Make sure you don't wind that one up too much, lad," Bofur gently warned. "Soon as it starts gettin' tough t' turn the key, it's good t' go."

He nodded in understanding. "Thank you, Mister Bofur," he grinned, eyes still fixed on the toy.

"Thank you, Mister Bofur!" Sigrid echoed, having found a crank toy that was shaped like a chicken.

"Have fun, you two," he smiled before returning to his seat.

Bifur's brow was cocked as he looked at his cousin. "So that's where you disappeared to. I thought you were takin' a bit too long t' be usin' the privy." He heard Fili snort into his tankard of cider.

Shrugging, Bofur continued to grin. "The poor things were close t' tears thanks t' their boredom," he said, grabbing his own tankard. "I couldn't let them suffer anymore."

Bard laughed, leaning back in his seat slightly. "They normally have Baylee, Will, or Warren t' chase them around, but with how busy it is tonight…" He shook his head. "They'll be occupied for the rest o' the evening now, I'm sure." He glanced back at his children, watching as they continued to go through the dozen or so toys, making sure to try them all out before they would decide on their favorites. "I take it those are the sorts o' toys you'll be offerin' in your store?"

Nodding, Bifur set his tankard. "As well as many others—most o' them bein' bigger than those."

Fili lit up slightly. "Will you have the rocking animals?" he asked. "Or the walking animals that move?"

"Aye, we'll be sellin' both, lad," Bofur grinned. "Though, I'm afraid you're a wee bit too big t' be riding on them now."

The prince's cheeks turned a touch pink, but he laughed. "Of course, I am. They were just always my favorites when I was a lad, so it'd be a shame if you didn't have those in the shop."

"Rocking and walking animals?" Bard questioned.

"Aye. Think o' a rockin' chair, but in a small an' cute animal shape," Dwalin explained. "As for the walkin' animals, they're like the rockin' ones, but they've got wheels an' if you lightly bounce on 'em, they move across the floor. Dwarrowlings adore them."

Bofur grinned broadly. "They were Bifur's idea. He got it after watching Baraz ride around on my back like a pony when he was still a wee thing. Baraz bein' Bombur's eldest child."

Bard nodded in understanding while chewing on a bit of fish. After swallowing, he questioned, "How expensive are these toys goin' to be, though? While Dale isn't exactly wanting for money, most of our citizens can't afford luxury items, let alone luxury toys."

"No worries about that," Bifur assured him. "Our rockin' animals are two gold each, while the walkin' animals are two gold, ten silver."

The king looked fairly impressed by this. "That…isn't terribly expensive at all. To be honest, I would have expected the price to be higher."

"Bofur and Bifur know their target population well," Fili laughed. "Children don't often get much in the way of pocket money, so they like to keep the prices low."

"Which some may call crazy, given that we make everythin' by hand," Bifur said. "But we've got ten- or twelve-years' worth of toys made up an' ready t' go."

At that, Bard and Fili both looked surprised. "That's…quite a number of toys," said the former.

"Aye…I didn't know you two had saved up that many," commented the latter.

Bofur snorted. "When you've got as much free time as we've got, you get quite fast at whittlin' and fiddlin'," he told them. "O' course, what you're fiddlin' with can be up for debate…"

Dwalin did his best to silence a snort. "Bofur!"

A cheeky grin came to his lips. "You've got no right t' speak; you're often found fiddlin' away on your instrument."

Dwalin's cheeks started to turn red. "You're lucky there're children present, otherwise I'd be pummelin' you."

"I think he means you're literally fiddling," Ori laughed, his brow rising. "Or have you forgotten how t' play the fiddle since becomin' captain o' the guard?" He snickered as Dwalin's cheeks turned even redder.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Dwalin cocked his brow. "I knew that," he said, though it was obvious to the others that his mind had gone down a more vulgar path. Because of that, they burst out into a hearty round of laughter at his expense. Grumbling to himself, he picked up his tankard and took a long drink from it.

Nori patted him on the shoulder, a teasing smirk on his lips. "You need t' stop makin' it so easy for Bofur t' get you like that," he told him, doing his best to not laugh.

"Says the one who often falls into Bofur's traps, too," Bifur grinned. "Both o' you need t' remember that he's always tryin' to find a way to make you turn as red as a beet—especially when he's had a few drinks!"

At that, Bofur jokingly pouted. "Bifur, you wound me! My own cousin, insinuatin' that I purposefully try t' get my friends t' embarrass themselves!" Shaking his head, he took a small drink of his ale. "You make it sound like I'm some sort o' mischievous scoundrel!"

"You're not quite a scoundrel," Fili grinned as he picked up a piece of cranberry-orange bread, "but you're definitely a mischievous something or other." He took a bite only to close his eyes and lean back in his chair. Four slices of the loaf were already gone because of him and he was tempted to reach for a fifth, but he would try his hardest to resist. Having heard that there was going to be a whole-roast hog for dinner, he didn't want to overstuff himself with bread.

"A mischievous prat, that's what he is," Nori chuckled, pulling his pipe out from the inside pocket of his vest. He wanted to add other, less flattering terms, but he bit his tongue as there were children present.

"I can think o' a few other things t' call him," Dwalin said, voicing Nori's thoughts, "but given that there are children about, I'll hold my tongue."

Bard shook his head, his brow raised in amusement. "An' I thank you for that. As distracted as those two look, I assure you, they're still partly payin' attention to us." When he glanced at his children, he was in time to see Bain pouting and Sigrid sticking her tongue out at them. "Put that tongue away, young lady," he lightly scolded, though there was humor in his voice.

Sigrid quickly pulled her tongue back into her mouth, but still wore a pout as she went back to playing with the toys.

Nearly three hours later found Warren, Will, Gawen, and Peter standing at the four corners of the roasting pit, each one managing to fish a hook under one of the poles of the makeshift stretcher the pig was on. The wooden poles had been soaked in water for three days before getting a wire net wrapped around them, making for a way to easily lift the hog in and out of the firepit.

"I got my corner hooked," Peter said after a few minutes. "Yavanna help me, this smells delicious…"

"Doesn't it?" Gawen grinned. "I think my aunt outdid herself this time around."

Galiene, who was supervising, smiled proudly. "I'm glad t' hear you think so, lad," she told him. "A little t' the right, Warren—no, no, your right."

"Thanks, Galiene," Warren replied. Even with her direction, however, it was a bit difficult; the wind was blowing towards him and Will, leaving them in the path of both the smoke and the steam. "How're you doing, Will?"

"Just got my end hooked. Waitin' on Gawen now."

"I'm tryin'," the younger lad replied. "There's just a bit too much dirt left around my corner, making it a wee bit hard t' hook." His nose scrunched up slightly as he tried yet again to get it.

Peter shook his head, chuckling. "How about the three o' us start liftin' our corners an' you can slip your hook under when the stretcher is off the ground?" He glanced over at Warren and Will, wanting to see if they would agree with such a plan.

Will nodded. "Sounds good t' me. It's just one corner, anyway—it won't fall or break."

"Then on the count o' three," Warren grunted. "One—two—three!"

Galiene had to bite her tongue to keep herself from giggling. The sight of three men and one teenager doing their best to lift the hog out of the ground was both amusing and endearing, mostly due to the faces they were making. Peter and Gawen were obviously straining with their end and had their faces contorted in concentration. Will and Warren, though, wore almost identical expressions of scrunched up noses and clenched jaws thanks to the smoke; neither seemed affected much by the pig's weight.

"Don't strain yourselves now, lads," she told them, doing a fairly good job of biting back her laughter. "If it's too heavy for you lot, I can go ask the dwarves t' lift it out instead."

"We've got it," Peter grunted. When the stretcher was high enough, the men turned it ninety degrees before setting it back down across the pit. "We just need t' have Will trade places with Gawen."

Gawen frowned slightly. "Why's that?"

"Will an' Warren are both stronger than you, so havin' them both at one end makes the weight distribution a bit uneven," he explained. "By bringing one o' them t' this side, it'll be more even."

Nodding in understanding, Gawen rubbed the side of his neck. "Makes sense," he said with a small chuckle. He hopped over the firepit while Will walked around it. "Are we takin' this in through the kitchen door or through the front?"

"There's no way we'll be able t' fit through the kitchen door like this, lad," Warren chuckled. "Not when there's all these extra vegetables on the stretcher that we've got t' carry."

"Anyway, we've got t' show off Galiene's hard work t' the whole inn," Will grinned. "Can't have one o' her whole roast hogs without lettin' everyone see how perfectly cooked it is."

As the men spoke, Galiene crouched down beside the roasted hog. Pulling a sheathed paring knife from her apron pocket, she stuck it into the very middle of the pig, a broad grin coming to her lips as it pierced through nice, crispy skin and into tender, juicy meat. A bit of the juices ran out from the small hole and, finding them nice and clear, she wiped her knife off before putting it away.

"An' perfectly cooked it is," she declared, looking up at the men. Still grinning, she flicked the skin, letting them hear how perfectly crisp it was.

"Ooh, you have no idea how tempted I am t' steal a bit o' that right now," Peter snickered. "I won't though, so you can keep that wee knife o' yours tucked away, Galiene."

"You had best not, or else I would use this little knife o' mine on you," she told him, her voice dry. With some assistance from her nephew, she stood upright once more before brushing her apron back into place. "But Warren's right—there's no way this stretcher will fit through the kitchen door, so we'll have t' go around."

"Then you had best head on over there an' get the door open for us," Warren told her, "Because if we don't get this inside soon, the four o' us will devour the entirety o' it." He wore a cheeky smile as he looked down at the cook, who was giving him an unamused look.

"Then you four had best pick dinner up an' get t' following me," she replied, her voice bland. Shaking her head, she turned and started to walk across the court yard.

Not wanting to risk her wrath, the four crouched down and grabbed the poles. They maneuvered their way around the pit before following after Galiene. Holding the door open, she stepped aside to let them pass by; her stomach quietly growled as she caught a whiff of the scent.

She had to agree with Gawen—she had out done herself this time.

When the men hauled the hog into the Tankard, the entire common room fell silent. The room's occupants stared in awe, watching their dinner be paraded past them like they were at some royal banquet.

"Oh, that looks so good," Wenna murmured, her eyes wide as the group walked past her and Baylee. "Galiene's even thrown in some apples to roast with the pig. Oh, an' I think I'm smellin' some cinnamon to boot…"

Baylee quietly laughed, her brow rising; as delicious as the meal both smelled and looked, her attention was mostly focused elsewhere. "Aye, it looks good, but I wish they'd walk a bit faster so I could deliver all these drinks." On each hand, she was balancing a platter filled with freshly refilled tankards and wine goblets.

Blinking, Wenna looked down only to make a small noise of surprise. "Do you need me t' take one of those for you, 'Lee?"

"No, no—I should be good." She gave her a reassuring smile only to breathe a sigh of relief as the pathway was finally cleared. Blowing a stray lock of hair from her face, she moved forward to deliver the drinks to their thirsty owners. She made her way around the room, delivering tankards and wine goblets to their owners, who thanked her.

Finally reaching the last table—which was the rangers' table—she found everyone to be in a good mood. Even Rán, who had been a bit grumpy earlier due to the pain in his arm acting up, was all smiles. Though, part of her wondered if he was only smiling because she was present.

"It almost feels as if the whole city were here tonight," Hunil commented, giving her a thankful nod as she handed him his tankard of beer. "I am surprised you maids have not yet dropped from exhaustion!"

"We almost feel ready to," Baylee laughed, standing on her tiptoes while leaning across the table. Seth took the goblet of wine from her, thanking her. "Even with three new hires, it's a wee bit exhausting."

"Understandable. Given the sheer amount of people in here…" Ashailyn shook her head. "I am surprised that this many people can even fit in this room—and this is not a small room by any means."

Baylee let out a small snort, her brow rising. "Aye, an' it doesn't help that a lot o' people don't know how to keep their chairs tucked in. I'm tiny an' even I'm having a hard time navigating the place. Thankfully, everyone's behavin' themselves. Otherwise, it'd be far worse than it is." She brushed the stray lock of hair from her face. "I know dinner's going t' be served soon, but is would any o' you like anything?"

They shook their heads, assuring her that they were looking forward to dinner too much to want any snacks. They again thanked her for their refilled drinks while she tucked her serving platters under her arm and headed off.

'I'm glad I took that nap this morning,' she thought, sneaking her way past various tables. 'Without it, I'm sure I'd be stumbling over myself by now. But even with the nap, I'm feeling wiped out…'

Heading over to the private room, she found the doors were still wide open, making it easier for her to check on things. Bard was still with the lads while Bain and Sigrid were having a playfight with some of the toys. The windows had been opened a bit, allowing for a cool breeze to circulate around the room—a good thing, considering that most of the dwarves were smoking their pipes.

"Hello, auntie," Sigrid chirped, looking up as her aunt entered the room. "Your face is—your face is red like a cherry!" she then giggled.

"Yours would be, too, if you were runnin' all over that stuffy common room," Baylee grinned. She leaned over and poked the girl's nose. "Be glad you're in here, where the air's cool!"

At that, Bain scrunched his nose up slightly. "It's cool, yeah, but it also smells like really weird smoke from all their pipes." He blinked, looking over his shoulder at his father and the dwarves when they started chuckling at his comment.

"I have t' agree with the wee lad," Dwalin said. "The combination o' our pipe tobaccos does make for an odd scent."

"Especially with Bofur's fruity blend," Nori snorted. "Cherry amongst peppermint, clove, plain…it's odd."

"When not mixed with your scents, however, it's the best smellin' o' the bunch," Baylee grinned. "How're you lads' drinks holding up?" When she walked closer to the dwarves, Bofur offered her his pipe and, her smile broadening, she thanked him before happily taking a pull from it.

Bard's brow rose in amusement as he said, "An' here I thought your father forbade you from smoking. And we could all do with refills."

A playful grin came to her lips and she handed the pipe back. "Which is exactly why none o' you are going to tell him or Will," she chirped, smoke furling from her mouth with every word. She set one of her trays down atop the table to start gathering up the various tankards and.

"Why doesn't your father like you smokin'?" Ori questioned, a confused look on his face. "I've seen him smoking on occasion…"

"He thinks it's not ladylike," Bofur answered for her.

Fili snorted at that. "He clearly hasn't met many female dwarves then," he said. "Ah, no offense meant of course."

"None taken, because you're right," Baylee said. "He's only met one female an' she's a half-dwarf."

"Oh! Bard was telling us about her earlier," the prince grinned. "Lovisa, I think her name was?"

"Aye, Lovisa," Bard nodded. "One of the best hunters I know."

Baylee cocked her brow, though still wore a grin. "One o' the best huggers I know." She caught Bifur's empty tankard as he tossed it to her before also catching Nori's.

Fili drained the last of his cider before also throwing his over; he was a bit hesitant to do such, but when she caught Nori and Bifur's with ease, he risked it. "She certainly seems like an interesting person," he then said, impressed she had caught the tankard.

"Bard was sayin' how she once brought back a boar thrice the size o' me," Dwalin added. "Apparently kept half o' Laketown fed for a few days?"

"Oh, aye! O' course, that happened only four winters ago, so Laketown's population wasn't nearly as large as it used t' be," Baylee confirmed. "But it was still an enormous kill. She had the head mounted an' it's hung up over the bar in the High Tide. So you'll get t' see it sometime late next week. An', if she's not out hunting, you'll get t' meet Lovisa, too." She looked over at the children. "Oi, you two troublemakers look a wee bit thirsty. Would you like some juice or tea?"

The siblings perked and nodded. "Juice, please!" Bain chirped.

"Thank you, auntie," Sigrid added, giving her a cheeky grin.

As Baylee excused herself and left the room, Dwalin gave Fili a teasing nudge. "Don't go gettin' yourself a crush on a lass yeh ain't even met yet," he quietly teased. Thanks to the depth of his voice, however, his comment was heard by everybody but the children.

His cheeks turning bright red, Fili punched Dwalin's bicep. "Very funny," he replied, voice dry. "I just think that it's interesting that she's a hunter. Most dwarrow dames prefer to have occupations closer to their homes."

"I just want to know how she does it," Bifur said. "Does she use a bow an' arrow? A spear? Traps? If she's takin' down boars, though, I would imagine it'd have t' be the latter two."

"All three, actually," Bard answered. "She's most skilled with a bow, but still quite deadly with a spear an' her traps are really good, too."

"Hm. Kili an' her would get along, then," Nori murmured. "You don't see many dwarves knowin' how to use bows. Most o' us are too short."

Bard nodded in agreement. "Aye, that's true. But, being half-dwarf, Lovisa's taller than you lot. She almost reaches my chin, and I'm just under six foot." He quietly laughed as he saw the looks of awe in the dwarves.

"That's tall, even for a half-dwarf," Ori mumbled, his eyes wide.

Bofur looked impressed. "She'd be like a giantess if ever she were t' go t' Erebor." As he spoke, smoke furled from his mouth. "She'd probably leave everyone in awe."

"That would depend on how big her beard is," Dwalin stated. "Or if she even has one. From what I've heard, half-dwarves don't have nearly as nice o' facial hair as full-blooded dwarves."

"She doesn't a full beard, but she does have herself a fine set o' muttonchops," Bard told him. "At least, she did when I last saw her. She may have more by this point." He glanced past the dwarves when he saw Baylee come back into the room, the refilled drinks on her platter. A small smile came to his lips as he watched her hand his children their drinks, though he was a bit surprised to see that she served it in goblets. "Did you run out o' normal cups and have t' use the fancy stuff?" he asked her.

She shook her head as she started to walk behind the table's occupants. "No. I just thought the two might want t' feel a wee bit fancy is all," she chirped in reply, setting a tankard down beside Bofur and then Nori. "They are a prince an' princess, after all. Also, Galiene told me t' let you lads know that your dinner will be arrivin' shortly. She's just finishin' up with the carving." A tankard appeared next to Bard and then Fili.

"How long will it be until you hostesses will be eatin'?" Ori questioned before thanking her as she handed him drink.

"That is a question that cannot be answered," she said. "We've a whole common room t' tend to before we can get a break. Though, I've been hearin' talk of clearing the floor for music an' dancing after dinner finishes up, so we might be able t' steal a few bites t' eat while everyone's busy with that."

"Maybe we should have brought a few of Bombur's sons to help out," Fili chuckled, his brow rising. "Though, I have to admit, I'm surprised there's this many people here…" Lifting his cup, he took a drink of his cider.

"Oh, you shouldn't be," Baylee said. "Whenever Bard an' his bairns come t' visit, the place gets packed. An' since word got out that you're here as well, it's a tight fit even for someone as small as me."

Bard shook his head. "I honestly don't know why they come here when they see me…Most o' them have known me since I was a child myself. You would expect them to be sick of seeing me by this point."

"How do we know everyone's here for Fili an' Bard, though?" Bofur teased. "Y'never know, they might all be here because they heard Galiene was roastin' a whole hog." He offered the lass his pipe again and she took it.

"That could very well be true, come t' think of it," Bard laughed, his brow rising. He watched Baylee started to take in a mouthful of the smoke; from the corner of his eye, he saw Warren lean into the room.

"Baylee Braddock! What d'you think you're doing!?" Warren scolded.

Her eyes shot open and she quickly dropped the pipe back into Bofur's hands. "N-Nothing, papa!" she squeaked, trying her best to look innocent. If being caught holding the pipe hadn't been incriminating enough, though, the smoke furling from her nose and mouth was. "Do you need somethin'?"

Ignoring the snickers from the dwarves and Bard, Warren cocked his brow. "For you t' not steal anymore puffs o' pipes for one," he told her, his voice bland. As much as he wanted to give her a proper scolding, he would withhold it—for now, at least. Shaking his head, he looked at the lads. "Galiene was wantin' know if you lot would rather have roasted vegetables or salad with your main entrée." Not at all to his surprise, almost all the dwarves answered 'roasted vegetables', but Bard, Bofur, and Fili requested salad. With the orders in mind, he returned to the kitchen.

"Salad?" Dwalin repeated, his brow rising as he looked at the prince. "Are yeh feelin' alright, Fili?" he asked with a snort. "Yeh almost never go for salad."

The prince shrugged, a grin on his lips. "I like salad. I think it'd be a nice side with the pork."

Bofur nodded in agreement. "Aye, it will. It won't weigh us down when it comes time t' dance later, either!" He stole a glance over at Baylee, seeing that she was subtly slipping from the room; he hoped she wouldn't be too tired to dance later…

Nori shook his head. "It's just a bunch o' leaves," he said. "Don't know why you'd enjoy eatin' those."

"Leaves with flavor," Fili corrected, wiggling his finger somewhat scoldingly.

"Disgusting flavor," Ori said with a frown.

"Refreshing flavor," Bard corrected. He wasn't sure if it was the three tankards of ale he had already consumed or what, but he found himself enjoying the company of the dwarves a great deal more than he expected—Dwalin's, especially. He remembered Dwalin being one of the more surly members of the group when he had first met the company eight years ago.

Fili took a drink of his cider. "And it's not like it's going to be just leaves. Salads usually have other vegetables as well as dressing to go with them."

Shaking his head, Bifur stuck his head out. "While salad is alright sometimes, it doesn't need t' be served alongside a whole hog. Roasted vegetables, baked apples, an' plenty o' rolls is what a dinner like this needs."

Bard leaned back in his chair and quietly chuckled. "You lot are quite passionate about your dislike o' salads. Almost as bad as Baylee an' Will's hatred of carrot cake."

The lads (save for Bofur) stared at him in shock. "Those two hate carrot cake!?" Ori gasped.

"Aye, they do. Quite fiercely, too," the king said. "They claim that it's dry an' has horrible seasoning and—what're you laughing about over there, Bofur?"

There was a cheeky grin on his lips as everyone looked at him. "They hate almost all carrot cake," he corrected. "They adored Gerdi's."

Now it was Bard's turn to look shocked, his brows furrowing in confusion. "Wait…what?" he questioned. "They ate carrot cake and enjoyed it?"

Bofur nodded. "Aye, they did. Baylee thought it was just a spice cake with raisins at first, so when I told her it was carrot cake, she had quite the start. When she ate her second piece, she went lookin' for the little pieces o' carrot to see if I was lyin' to her. When she found them, she was quite shocked. Will darn near fainted when she told him he was eatin' carrot cake."

"That's because it was so moist an' soft!" The lads looked up in time to see Will bringing in a large platter of neatly presented pork parts while Warren carried two large serving bowls of roasted vegetables and one medium-sized serving bowl of salad. Behind them came Wenna, a stack of plates, a stack of napkins, and a bundle of silverware in hand.

"Mahal bless me, that smells delicious," Nori murmured, his eyes widening at the sight.

"Mahal bless me, that looks delicious," Dwalin mumbled, a grin spreading across his lips.

Warren chuckled, setting a bowl of roasted vegetables at either end of the table. "I assure you, it tastes even better than it looks," he said. He offered Bard the salad bowl first, since he was king.

With Will and Warren arranging the food, Wenna carefully made her way around the table, laying down a plate, a knife, a fork, and a napkin in front of everyone. She glanced over at Ori as he picked up his fork only to poke at a bit of pork skin. His eyes widened slightly when he found that it was hard, making the young woman chuckle.

"It's delicious," she told him. "I like t' get a bit of the meat an' put it on the skin before eatin' it. You get the yummy flavor o' both while also getting the nice crunch from the skin."

He blinked in surprise. "That's the skin?" he questioned, looking at her. Seeing her nod, he looked back at it. "I don't think I've ever seen pig skin that crispy or that color before…"

"Really?"

"Aye. I mean, I've had crispy skin before, but nothing like this." He picked up a small piece of it and tapped it against the ceramic of his plate. "This is almost like an edible rock." Then, shrugging, he popped it into his mouth.

Wenna quietly snorted, an amused smile on her lips as she heard his teeth crunching it up. "Good, isn't it?"

He nodded heartily, a smile coming to his lips as he swallowed the bite. "That is good!"

"You'll want t' try and get as much as you can before the others realize how good it is," she jokingly warned. "Because I assure you, it's goin' t' go fast."

Almost an hour later found the hostesses getting a well-deserved break. The women were gathered around the well, each with a plate of food resting on their laps and a tankard of drink on the ground beside them.

"The prince seems quite polite so far, don't you think?" Primrose commented. She plucked up a larger bit of pork and tore it into three pieces before popping one into her mouth.

"Aye, he is!" Rosalyn agreed. "An' he looks so young compared to the others. Even younger than Ori."

"That's because he's only ninety-two," Baylee told her. She crunched into a piece of skin, a small, silly smile coming to her lips.

Rosamunde giggled, her brow rising. "'Only' ninety-two. That's over thrice our age!"

Wenna snorted. "It's still young for dwarves," she said, her mouth partially filled with food. She picked up her tankard and took a drink. "In human years, he wouldn't be more than twenty-five."

"That young? Really?" Primrose questioned, a brow rising. "That doesn't seem right—he looks about our age!"

Baylee cracked up. "Prim, we're only thirty! There's not that big o' a difference in the ages. Anyway, his beard helps him look a wee bit older." She took a long drink from her tankard before setting her plate on the ground. Rising to her knees, she turned around and, reaching up, dunked her tankard into the bucket of well water.

A dramatic sigh left Primrose's mouth. "We're thirty and yet, only two of us are on track to be married before we're forty. An' one of them doesn't even know which lad she wants to pick yet!"

Rosalyn laughed, giving her a small nudge. "Not my fault you're so picky, Prim. You're always dreamin' of a prince in shinin' armor coming to whisk you away—you need t' dream a little lower to the ground." She held her cup out to Baylee with a small 'please'.

"An' to dream of someone in tarnished armor," Baylee added, taking the cup. She dunked it into the bucket as well before passing it back, a few drops of water dripping from both her hand and the cup onto the back of Wenna's neck.

"Why tarnished armor?" Rosamunde questioned, her brow raised.

"Because if his armor is shinin', it means he hasn't done any fightin' in it," Wenna answered, her nose scrunched up as she tried to use her sleeve to dry the back of her neck. "If you want a real warrior, look for the ones in the beaten an' battered armor."

Baylee nodded in agreement as she turned back around and plucked up her plate again. "Aye. An' they're usually not the handsome young lads you think they are. A lot o' times, they're closer in appearance t'—"

"Rán?" Primrose interject with a small, teasing grin. "Because he certainly looks like a warrior and a handsome young lad." She watched Baylee's cheek turn pink.

"He may look young," Rosamunde countered, "but he's probably around Mister Braddock's age.

"How do you figure that?" Rosalyn asked.

"He's raised Ashailyn since she was a baby," Baylee answered. "An' he said he was around forty years old when she was born. Given that she's in her early twenties…" She shrugged and ate a bit more of her dinner.

Primrose frowned slightly. "Really? I didn't know that…Then again, he is a half dwarf. I shouldn't be this surprised."

Wenna chuckled. "I didn't know that, either. I'm surprised t' hear that he's the one who raised Ashailyn." Her smile then faded slightly. "Ugh, if Rán was nearly forty, then how old was his father when he sired Ashailyn…?"

At that, varying expressions of disgust came to the five women's faces.

"Let's change the topic," Rosamunde quickly suggested. "Do you lasses think it'll be this busy again tomorrow night?"

"I hope not," Rosalyn sighed. "It's not even close t' closing and I'm ready to sleep."

Wenna shook her head, making a feigned sound of disappointment. "You're sayin' that and the dancing hasn't even started yet? We really need t' toughen you up if you can't handle one busy night." A cheeky grin came to her lips as Primrose leaned over and nudged her.

"Don't try to scare her away now," she jokingly scolded. "Mum's been enjoying how she's helping with the dinner dishes more often because of this job."

"Anyway," Wenna added, "once the dancing starts, we're pretty much done for the night. Aye, we'll have t' refill drinks now and again, but no one's goin' t' be eating since all the tables an' chairs will be piled up against the wall."

"But what about afterwards?" Rosamunde questioned. "Won't we have t' put all the tables an' chairs back once everyone's gone home or back t' bed?"

"Nope. Those usually get dealt with in the morning," Wenna answered.

"Actually, if me an' papa are sober enough, we usually do it," Baylee said. "Uncle Richard an' Will help if they're sober enough, too."

Primrose chuckled, a teasing smile coming to her lips. "I'm sure a certain half-dwarf would be more than willing to help out if you asked, too."

At that, Baylee frowned slightly. "While I'm sure he would, Prim, he's got an injured arm, remember?"

A confused expression came to Primrose's face, but it lasted only a few seconds as she quickly remembered that Rán did, indeed, have an injured arm. "I forgot about that," she admitted, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment. "With him up and walking about again, it's an easy thing to forget."

"I'm sure Baylee will be able t' sweet talk a full-blooded dwarf or two into helpin', though," Rosalyn giggled. She watched as Baylee's cheeks flushed red once more.

Baylee would have replied, but seeing movement from the corner of her eye, she looked over at the inn. Through the window, she could see people carrying chairs around. She could also see Will beginning to open the windows so it wouldn't get too warm inside. "Looks like they're already gettin' prepped for the dancin'," she instead commented.

"Should we hurry up an' go help with things?" Rosamunde questioned.

"No, no—we're on break and everyone knows that," Primrose told her. "Anyway, we've been talking so much, we've barely touched our plates."

"Speak for yourself!" Wenna teasingly scoffed. "I'm ready t' go see if Galiene will let me steal anymore skin an' fatty bits."

Rosamunde shook her head, laughing. "You're so obsessed with the skin! It tastes good, but I don't think it's anythin' to obsess over. Other than its crispiness, you can get the same flavor by roasting a pork belly over a fire."

"You underestimate how rare it is for me t' get something this good." Wenna's voice was a bit dry. "I live with my sister an' brother-in-law, neither o' who are good cooks. There's a reason I eat all my meals here."

"Isn't your sister the one who managed t' nearly burn down your house because she tried t' use flour t' douse a grease fire?" Primrose questioned.

A groan left Wenna's mouth and she nodded. "Aye, she was…You would think she'd know that that was a stupidly dangerous thing t' do, considerin' our parents told us t' never bring a candle near the mill when we were grinding flour."

Baylee gently patted her on the shoulder. "At least she knows better now. An' at least she knows better than t' use water t' put out a grease fire, aye?"

Wenna gave her a long look. "Do not underestimate my sister's lack o' knowledge when it comes t' the kitchen. She works wonders on a loom, but not over a hearth."

"How do those two eat, then?" Rosalyn asked, a frown on her lips.

"My brother-in-law does the cookin'. He knows his way around a kitchen better than her, but he's still not a very good cook."

"No wonder you practically begged papa t' hire you on as a hostess," Baylee chuckled, her brow raised. "If I had t' deal with such bad cooks, I'd look for work where I got free food, too."

Her cheeks turning a bit pink, Wenna started to stand up. "Well…that an' I really did need the money," she smiled. "Still do need the money, but not nearly as bad." Brushing off the back of her dress, she started to head for the kitchen.

"I think I hear the music starting up," Rosamunde said, her head tilting slightly in an attempt to hear better. "Hm. Or maybe it's just the musicians tunin' their fiddles."

"I wonder if I'll get t' dance with a handsome lad tonight?" Primrose sighed.

Rosalyn snorted. "There are plenty o' lads in there t' choose from, Prim," she said. "An' plenty of them are handsome, too. The problem is finding one who lives up to your definition o' handsome."

A small pout came to Primrose's lips. "You know what I mean!"

Baylee let out a small laugh. "You want t' dance with one o' the rangers is what you mean."

Rosalyn and Rosamunde giggled as their sister let out another sigh, this one more defeated than anything. "Yes, I'd like t' dance with one of the rangers. But I know you three do, too!"

Rosalyn shook her head. "Oh, no—I've already got my man, Laketown born and raised. I just need t' find Bors in that crowd." She popped a bit of meat into her mouth, chewing it slowly.

"Shouldn't be hard, considerin' how orange his hair is," Baylee smiled. "Though, you may want t' look for him from the second floor, that way you could see above the crowd."

"That's actually a good idea." A thoughtful expression came to her face as she picked up another bit of meat. "It'd also be easier for you three t' look for dance partners from up there, too."

Rosamunde shook her head. "I know exactly who I'm goin' to ask for a dance. I just hope doesn't mind having a to dance with someone a foot an' a half shorter than him."

Primrose cocked a brow. "Who're you going to ask, then?" she questioned.

"Hunil."

The other three looked at her in a mixture of surprise and confusion. While Hunil was still fairly handsome, he was the least attractive of the rangers and was often overlooked in favor of Nakara and Rán.

"Aye, Hunil," Rosamunde confirmed. "I know he's not the first pick for Prim an' 'Lee, but I think he's quite the sweetheart and he's handsome to boot." She took a long drink from her tankard before setting it back down. "Therefore, I call dibs on him for dancin' tonight."

Primrose quietly giggled, her brow rising. "We'll know you've called dibs on him, but will the other lasses in there know?" she teased. She watched as her younger sister's eyes widened slightly in realization. "It was just a joke, Rosa," she assured her. "I'm sure you've plenty o' time before the dancing actually starts."

"Aye, she does," Baylee said, peering through the window again. She was more than a little surprised to see some of the smaller tables being carried up the stairs. "They're still movin' tables and chairs around. From the looks o' it, they're actually carryin' some o' the tables upstairs." Her brows furrowed slightly; she didn't think there had been that many people in the inn that night.

"Really? I don't think you've ever had t' move tables upstairs before." Primrose blinked and, leaning over, also gazed through the window, though she had to squint slightly. "How can you see anything that's going on in there from all the way over here? Everyone just blends together."

"Well, I can't tell who's doin' what—well, except there goes Bors, helpin'…aye, that's papa he's helpin' carry a table upstairs. But I only recognize them because o' papa's height and Bors' hair." She popped a bit of roasted carrot and potato into her mouth.

Primrose nodded slowly in understanding, though she didn't quite believe her. "I'll take your word for it," she chuckled. Looking down at her plate, she found it mostly empty. "Well, I don't know about you lasses, but I think I'm goin' to call it quits on food. The last thing I want is t' be dancing on a full stomach an' end up getting sick."

"That's actually a good idea," Rosalyn murmured. She looked down at her plate, a small frown on her lips.

"Aye, it is," Rosamunde agreed. A small pout then came to her lips. "But it's so good…"

Baylee gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry—there is plenty o' hog left over. I'm sure if you don't get your fill o' it tonight, you'll be able t' get some more tomorrow." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "An' probably the next day. An' the day after that."

"Hmm…No, I think it'll all be gone by the day after tomorrow," Primrose chuckled. Balancing her plate atop her tankard, she stood up and brushed the back of her dress off. "Galiene's cooking doesn't last long around here, especially if there are dwarves around t' eat it. And being that we've two more dwarves staying with us…" Her brow rose in amusement, watching as her sisters also got to their feet.

"Aren't you comin', 'Lee?" Rosalyn asked.

She shook her head, having been in the middle of chewing a bite. "No," she said when she swallowed. "I'm goin' to finish my meal before headin' in. I'm not sure how much dancin' I'll be doin' anyway, given how tired I am."

They nodded. "Well, hopefully we'll see you soon," Rosamunde chirped. "We'll be sure t' let your da' and Will know you're still out here for you."

"Thank you," she smiled, tearing a bit of meat in half. She watched as her friends started to walk away before letting out a quiet sigh. 'Finally, I can have some quiet,' she thought, letting her eyes fall shut; there was an ache forming at the base of her neck. Leaning back against the well, she tilted her head back, resting it against the cool stone. 'On days when I'm this tired…quiet is all I want. Which is a shame, given that there's music and dancing about to start up.'

Feeling around for her tankard, she felt the metal against her fingers and took hold of the handle. She took a long, slow drink from it before setting it back down and letting her eyes open once more. Across the way, she could see the door to the inn opening up, allowing for the light inside to come spilling out into the darkening evening.

A pair of figures stepped out; at first, she couldn't tell who they were thanks to the light behind them. But as they closed the door, she found that they were Dwalin and Ori. They were talking in Khuzdul, with the two of them laughing at something. Then, taking Dwalin's hand, Ori stood on his tiptoes, kissing the taller dwarf's cheek before leading him away up the street.

'I knew it,' Baylee thought, a small grin on her lips.