A/N: For those of you wondering when some action would happen, I hope you enjoy this chapter :3

"Oh great…where did I mess up?" Fili held up his project, his eyes scanning the rows to see where he had made the mistake. There it was—two rows down, near the end. "Not far at all," he sighed, relieved. Removing the yarn from the needles, he started to undo his work from the last five minutes.

He was in the middle of (correctly) reknitting the rows when there was a knock on the door of his room. "Come in," he called, eyes focused on his work. When the door opened, however, he glanced over to see Baylee coming in with a small tray.

"I've the cider an' snacks you requested, milord," she informed. "Where would you like me to put them?"

"Right here on the nightstand, please," he replied, giving her a small smile. It was so strange to him, seeing a fully grown human who was barely taller than him.

She smiled as she set the tray on the table. "Is there anything else you'd like me t' fetch you?" she then asked, brushing her hands off on her apron.

Fili could see that she had brought him a plate of sliced meat and cheese as well as about four rolls. "No; I think this will tide me over until dinner quite well. Thank you, Miss Baylee."

"It's no trouble at all," she chirped. Then, noticing the knitting needles and the project he was working on, she tilted her head. "You knit?"

He nodded, carefully starting to roll his project up before placing it in a basket. "Ori taught me when I was recovering after the war. It kept my mind sharp, even when I was at my most bored." Reaching over, he plucked up the tankard and took a small drink of the cider.

"That makes sense. My aunt's working on improving her embroidery skills while she heals up from an ankle injury." She brushed some hair over her shoulder. "I must admit, though, I never really expected dwarves t' be the sorts t' knit. I've seen Bofur, Bifur, an' Ori wearing knitted things, o' course, but I just assumed they commissioned them from some humans."

"No," he chuckled, setting the tankard back down. "If you see any member of Thorin's company wearing anything knitted, chances are Ori or I made it. In fact, almost all of the knitted things the Ur clan wears were made by me."

"Well, you do quite lovely work," she smiled. "I don't know many folk that knit, but the ones that do don't use so many different kinds of stitches."

It was his turn to wear a curious expression. "There aren't many knitters in Dale?" he asked, a bit confused. That would account for the lack of knitted garments he had seen over the last few days-well, that and the arrival of spring.

"No. I'm afraid most o' them live down in Laketown. However, we do have plenty o' folk who crochet."

His brow rose in amusement. "Why crochet and not knitting?"

She shrugged. "A lot o' them claim that crochet is easier than knitting, since there aren't any needles, just a hook."

"That's funny—the hook is why I find it so hard to crochet. Then again, dwarves have fatter fingers compared to humans and that might be why I find the needles easier to use."

"That could very well be it." She quietly laughed. "If you're ever in need o' some yarn, though, our tailoring district has some really nice ones."

"Oh?"

She nodded. "There are all sorts o' skein types: Plain an' multicolored, thick an' thin, rough an' super soft…Like I said: All sorts."

Intrigued, Fili tilted his head slightly and inquired, "And how would one get to the tailoring distract from here?"

"Once you get out o' the front door, you'll head right about three hundred feet. You'll take another right an' follow that road until you come t' the carousel, where you'll take a left. That whole street is the tailoring district."

"Thank you. I'll be sure to pay it a visit before I return to Erebor," he told her with a smile. "Are there any other parts of the city I should see before returning?"

"Hmm…Well, aside from the market, I always found the farms on the south-western side o' the city to be rather interesting to visit thanks t' all the fruits an' vegetables being grown out o' season. Other than that, though, I just recommend walking through the city with no real destination in mind."

"Why do you recommend doing that, if you don't mind my asking?"

She slightly shrugged. "I've always found that wanderin' aimlessly gives you time t' take in your surroundings an' explore a bit more, since you don't have t' be anywhere specific."

"That is very true," he agreed, chuckling. "Thank you again. If I can manage to slip away from Dwalin and the others again, I will definitely try that."

A small laugh left her mouth. "I take it they've been smotherin' you a wee bit?"

"It's why I'm hiding up here instead of being down there, admittedly." He rubbed the back of his neck, his smile turning guilty. "Don't get me wrong—they're some of my best and closest friends and I've missed them, but I do like my moments of alone time."

"Nothin' wrong with that whatsoever," she assured him. "Even crown princes need their moments o' solitude—especially when their friends are currently in a very heated game o' dice."

At that, Fili snorted. "I thought I might've heard them cheering…do you know which dice game it is?"

"I think they said it was called 'Lying Dice'? If not, it was somethin' close."

"Ahh, Liar's Dice. I never could do very well at that game." He lightly shook his head, still chuckling to himself. "They're not bothering anyone, are they? Or is it not as crowded as it was yesterday and the day before?"

"It's a bit busy, but nothin' nearly close t' the crowds o' the previous two days," she answered, tucking some hair behind her ear. "In fact, it's positively empty compared t' the last two days."

His brow rose in amusement. "I suppose the novelty of having a dwarven prince around wore off, then," he joked. "That's good, though. I felt kind of bad you and your staff had such large crowds to tend to."

She dismissively waved her hand. "It's nothing we couldn't handle, I assure you. Especially since we've got the most hostesses now than ever before."

"Really? How many hostesses do you normally have?"

"Most o' the year, two is enough, but come the warmer months, we usually hire on a few more. We did that preemptively this year, though, thanks t' my auntie's injury an' me going down t' Laketown."

He nodded in understanding. "Well, it looks like you hired everyone in just the nick of time," he chuckled. "I don't think I've ever seen that many people under one roof before." He then paused, his brow rising ever so slightly at his wording. "Or, rather, I've never seen that many people under one human-made structure's roof."

"It was definitely one o' the bigger crowds we've served," she chuckled. She turned her head as she heard someone call her name. "Ah, I best be gettin' back downstairs now. If you need anythin' else, just holler, alright?"

"Will do. And thank you again for bringing me these. I appreciate it."

"It was no trouble, milord," she chirped. With a small nod of farewell, she closed the door behind her. Quietly humming to herself, she made her way towards the stairs. When she reached the landing, she wasn't very surprised to see Primrose standing at the bottom, her brow raised. A mischievous grin came to her lips.

Knowing exactly what Baylee had planned, Primrose pouted. "Don't you dare, Baylee Brad—" Before she could finish her sentence, Baylee had hopped up onto the banister and was sliding her way down. "That is so very unladylike, I'll have you know."

"Unladylike, aye, but fun." She grinned cheekily at her friend and hopped off the banister. "What did you need me for?"

"Adela needs your help with the pies for tonight," she explained, sighing as she shook her head. "She started to feel a bit woozy, so I made her sit down and take her break. But the pie dough needs rolled out before the butter in it starts t' go all soft."

Baylee frowned, concern coming to her features. "She's feelin' woozy? Is she feelin' alright aside from that?"

"Just warm," Primrose said, leading her towards the kitchen. "The kitchen's mighty warm today, so I told her she should probably drink more water and to keep the doors propped open."

She nodded in understanding. "Might want to open the main door an' a few o' the windows around the common room, too, so a breeze can pass through an' cool things off quicker."

"I'll get right on that then." She gave Baylee a small smile before turning left and heading for the windows.

Baylee, however, continued towards the kitchen. Reaching the doors, she used a pair of triangular wooden blocks to keep them propped open. She then headed into the kitchen, where she found Adela sitting on a stool near the back door, which had also been propped open. In one hand, she held a small plate that she was using for a fan while, in the other, she held a mug of water.

"Prim was sayin' you felt a bit woozy," Baylee said as she walked over. "You're not feelin' under the weather, are you?"

Adela shook her head. "No, no—just woozy," she assured her. "I think I worked too long without taking a break or drinking any water. A dumb thing to do in a warm kitchen!" She chuckled before drinking a bit more water. "Did Prim tell you why I needed your help?"

"Aye. Let me get my hands washed up an' I'll get those pie crusts rolled out for you." She moved over to the sink, having to stand on her tiptoes to grab the soap. "Are they going t' be hand-pies or pies in plates?"

"Hand pies, so I just need the dough rolled out—no need t' cut them or anything." She leaned back against the wall, sighing quietly. "I'm sorry for havin' t' pull you out o' your duties, but since Mundie an' Lynnie had to run to the market for Galiene, I didn't want to ask Prim or Wenna." Both women knew that Prim and Wenna weren't exactly the best when it came to doing any tasks related to actual cooking or baking. "Galiene an' Gawen are on break, by the way, which is why it's just me in here at the moment."

Nodding in understanding, Baylee dried off her hands. "I wasn't doing much, to be honest," she told her. "I had just delivered Fili some cider an' snacks he had asked for earlier, so you actually had fairly good timin' t' have me help." She gave the redhead a reassuring smile before going over the island. She found it already covered with flour, a large mound of pastry dough resting in the middle of it. Half of it had already been beaten flat by the rolling pin while the rest still needed flattening. "What flavor o' pie are these going t' be?"

"Half of them will be apple-cinnamon while the rest will be cherry."

Her brow rose and she looked back over at Adela. "Cherry? Where did you find those?" It wasn't even close to being cherry season.

"I was lookin' through the cellar t' see what sorts o' jarred goods we had that needed used up an' I found a bunch o' canned cherry pie filling," she explained. Before continuing, she took another drink of water. "So, I brought those up, tasted the mixture t' see if it needed anythin' added, an' found that it didn't." A quiet laugh left her mouth when she watched Baylee smack the dough down with the rolling pin before starting to roll it out. "Well, that's a lie. I did add a touch more sugar and some almond essence, but other than that, it needed nothin'."

"Almond essence?" Her brows furrowed in confusion. "Why would you add that? It'd just make the filling taste nutty." She grunted quietly as she was forced to stand on her tiptoes in order to roll the dough away from her.

Adela's brow rose in amusement. "I always add almond essence to my cherry pies," she explained, "as well as to my blueberry pies. It doesn't add a nuttiness, but it does enhance the berry flavor."

"Huh…I would have never thought of that. But, I suppose that's just one o' many the many tricks that makes you the best piemaker in the city." Lowering herself off her tiptoes, she started to roll towards her, which was much easier to do. She stole a glance over at Adela; she still looked a bit flushed.

"Now if only I could learn your secrets to making your delicious fruit breads," joked the redhead. "Then I could be the best piemaker and bread maker in the city." A cheeky grin came to her lips before being hidden behind her cup as she took another drink.

Baylee's brow rose as she laughed. "I'm afraid not even I really know my secret," she admitted. "I have the base recipe memorized, but dependin' on the ingredients I have, I make frequent changes t' it an', unless it was an especially good batch, I don't really remember what changes those were."

"That's how it is for my pies, actually. The only recipe I don't change whatsoever is the cherry pie. Ned perfected that an' I'm not about to change it." She brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "All the others, though? Those get frequent changes—small ones, o' course, but even the smallest changes can make the biggest o' differences."

"Is it just the fillin' you make changes to, or do you also change up the crust once in a while?"

"Both. Like, recently, I discovered that adding a bit o' vinegar to the crust makes it really hard to overwork—it remains nice an' flaky."

Her brow rose. "Wouldn't you be able t' taste the vinegar, though?"

"Nope. It's just a small splash o' the stuff you need—about a teaspoon per tinned pie you plan to make."

Baylee nodded in understanding, though her brows were still lifted in confusion. "How did you even come across this discovery?"

"I was experimenting. Da—Mannus—" Baylee heard Adela quietly scold herself, "—was wantin' me to find a way to make my pies extra good so that more people would go to the Hen instead o' here. Like all o' his ideas to drum up more business, though, it didn't work." She shook her head, sighing quietly. "Which is fine with me. That miser doesn't deserve what business—"

She was suddenly cut off by the sound of an explosion. Barely a second later, there was a secondary explosion followed by a few loud 'bangs' that sounded quite a bit like fireworks.

"What in the world!?" Baylee dropped her rolling pin and hurried over to the door; she could hear distant screaming and shouting. There was a black plume of smoke rising into the air. "Oh no…I think there was an explosion at one o' the bakeries."

"What?!" Adela jumped to her feet and moved to lean out of the door. "Oh no…Oh, Valar, I hope no one's dead…" Seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, she looked over to see customers flooding out of the common room and into the courtyard. A handful of men took off at a run in the direction of the smoke, as did Primrose.

"That was a big explosion," Baylee said, a grim look on her face. "It'd be a miracle if no one died."

Galiene came hurrying over; Gawen, on the other hand, hurried off with the other men. "I don't like this—that explosion was in the bakin' district. If one place went up, then there's a strong chance o' more goin' up, too."

Wenna came hurrying into the kitchen. "Prim ran off t' go help," she said. "She's got experience with treatin' injuries."

"Good, good—judging by how big o' a boom that was, they're going t' need all the help they can get," Baylee said.

"We should go help, too," Wenna frowned. "The more hands the better."

Galiene shook her head. "Not for something like this, lass," she countered. "It's goin' t' be chaos down there—people are goin' t' be all over the place, tryin' to put out any fires, tryin' to pull injured people out o' the building, tendin' to those who are injured…It's best if we give those who're already down there some space."

Adela slowly nodded. "Still…I feel like we should be helping in some fashion."

"I know you do—an' I feel that way, too. But we are helpin' by stayin' out o' the way an' not becoming another set o' missing people, understand?" She then pointed a scolding finger up at Adela. "Especially with you feelin' woozy, missy. We can't have you goin' down there only t' end up fainting."

"Luckily, I'm not feeling woozy anymore," Adela sighed. "Now I'm just feeling worried. My stomach feels heavy, like we'll be gettin' bad news soon…"

Baylee glanced up at her. "You, too?" Adela nodded, making Baylee quietly swear. "I'd say I hope no one we known got hurt, but we know almost everyone in the bakin' district."

The women spent the rest of the day as usual: Tending to customers, cooking, baking, and washing dishes. But they were now also keeping an ear out for any news regarding the explosion. It wasn't until near dinner time that some finally arrived—but not in a welcomed manner.

The inn was nearly empty, most of its patrons having gone down to either help with or gawk at the fire. Baylee and Wenna were cleaning tankards behind the bar when the door opened. Both looked over, expecting to see customers walking in. Instead, they saw Will, soot covering most of his body, backing into the building. He held one end of a stretcher, but who was on it, they lasses couldn't yet tell.

"Careful—mind the step. Aye, that's good," he was saying to whoever held the other end. He then looked over at bar, seeing his sister. "'Lee, go unlock our quarters," he ordered.

The tone he used was one Baylee rarely heard him use—it was authoritative. Her brows furrowing, she set down the tankard and rag before hurrying to the hallway, where she pulled the key from its spot around her neck. Once the door was unlocked and opened, she looked over at Will only to feel the color drain from her face and her body go stiff when she saw who lay on the stretcher.

It was Warren. Like Will, he had a fair bit of soot covering his body, but unlike his son, he also had bloodied bandages wrapped around his chest, arms, and head.

Adela poked her head out of the kitchen only to gasp in horror. "Nienna help me, what happened, Will!?" From the corner of her eye, she could see one of the dwarves jumping to his feet. Though she didn't see which one it was, she had a strong feeling she knew who it was.

And indeed she was right; Bofur hurried over and, carefully squeezing past the men, he went over to Baylee and wrapped his arms around her. She clung onto him, a soft whimper leaving her mouth.

"He's going t' live, but it's going t' take him some time t' heal," Will grunted. Helping him carry the stretcher was Peter, who was also covered in soot. Behind them followed Richard, who looked utterly exhausted. "I'll explain in a few minutes." He and Peter walked past her, starting to maneuver the stretcher into the private quarters.

Adela moved to follow the men into the private quarters, knowing they might need the extra pair of hands.

Bofur glanced up at Baylee, finding that she was as pale as a ghost and had tears running down her cheeks. Her eyes were wide open, fixed on a spot somewhere on the wall behind him. "Lass?" he asked, his voice quiet.

She said nothing—she didn't even blink.

"Lass?" he asked again this time giving her a small shake. When she still didn't snap out of it, he leaned back slightly and set his hand on her cheek before gently forcing her to look at him. "Baylee, you need t' snap out o' it."

Recognition suddenly returned to her eyes and she blinked a few times. She swallowed hard, her jaw beginning to wobble. "P-Papa—do you—is he—?" Her voice shook badly, making it difficult for her to form words, let alone full sentences.

"Your brother said he's goin' to live, but it's going t' take him some time t' heal," he answered.

She nodded, burying her face in the crook of his neck only to let out a quiet sob.

"It'll be alright, love," he whispered, rubbing her back. "I'm sure it looks worse than it is." He felt her nod again. "Do you want t' go in an' see him?"

"I-I c-can't…not—not yet."

His brows furrowed. "Why not?"

"…H-He looks—he looks like h-he did after the war." Another quiet sob left her throat only to be muffled by his shoulder.

He nodded in understanding. "Where do you want t' go then, love? We can't stand in the hallway like this. We're blockin' the way to the loo."

"S-storage…"

"Alright. We'll go t' the storage room." Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he started to guide her down the hallway and around the corner.

Before they could reach the end of the hall, however, Wenna poked her head out of from the kitchen. Her brows furrowed upon seeing the state of distress Baylee was in and she looked at Bofur in confusion.

"Warren's badly hurt," he told her, his voice quiet. "He's going t' make it, but seein' him upset her pretty bad."

Wenna cringed. "Do you need me to get you anything?"

"Maybe some tea for her…?" He gently took the key from Baylee's hand and used it to unlock the door to the storage room.

"I'll get the kettle going." She disappeared back into the kitchen as Bofur open the door.

Leading her inside, he shut the door behind them. There wasn't much light in here; the only windows were near the ceiling and allowed just enough light in to let a person navigate their way around. He led her over to some crates in the corner, helping her sit down before climbing up to sit beside her. As soon as he was situated, he reached over and, gently scooping her up, cradled her on his lap. She buried her face in the crook of his neck again; he could feel how wet with tears her cheeks were.

"I'm here for you, love," he murmured, closing his eyes as he gently rocked her. "I'm not goin' t' let go of you until you tell me to, alright?"

She nodded. "Th-thank you," she sniffled, though her voice was barely audible thanks to his neck.

Bofur wasn't sure how long they sat there, the only sound heard being Baylee's quiet sniffles and sobs. The whole while, he continued to rock her and gently stroke her hair. Most people would have thought she was overreacting at the sight of her injured father, especially when she had been told that he was going to live.

He, however, knew better. After a war like the Battle of Five Armies, he knew plenty of people who would break down in a similar fashion when they came across certain sights or heard certain sounds. There were times when he even needed to get away from something in order to not relive that day. Given how good Baylee's memory was…

"I-I'm sorry," she murmured after a while, taking him by surprise.

His brows furrowed and he looked down at her, curious. "Why're you sorry, love?"

"F-for breaking down like th-that."

"There's nothin' for you t' be sorry about, love," he murmured, kissing her temple. "Seein' your da' like that had t' have given you a horrible shock."

She closed her eyes, snuggling against him a bit further; she was so thankful for how safe he made her feel. "He l-looked just like he d-did after the War," she quietly told him. "Layin' on a st-stretcher, covered in bl-blood an' bandages…The only thing that was d-different was that Will wasn't on a stretcher beside him." She swallowed hard. "It took them months t' heal up…Papa took longer than Will."

Before he could stop himself, Bofur asked, "Why's that, love? Were his injuries worse?"

She shook her head. "No. He was be-better off than Will, injury-wise." She fell quiet for a few minutes; he almost thought she had fallen asleep if she hadn't shifted slightly and let out a sigh. "My mum was killed durin' the War. Her de-death hit us all hard, but it hit papa the hardest. What made it worse was that, since he was bedridden, he hadn't been able t' see her an' give her one last goodbye before she was bur-buried. But, t' be honest, I think it was for the best he didn't see her…not after how she died."

"It wasn't a clean death, then."

"No. No, it wasn't." Her breath caught in her throat as, for a split second, the image of her mother's decapitated head filled her mind. Shuddering, she turned slightly and wrapped her arms around him. "But, aye, papa was hit hardest by her death. Even when his body was healed, he couldn't bring himself t' get out o' bed, he was still grievin' so hard."

"I know that feelin'," he murmured, his eyes closing. "I know it all too well."

Her brows furrowed in confusion and she tilted her head back to look up at him. "You…do?"

"Aye," he nodded. "I…was engaged once. Years ago; probably before you were born. Like your mum, she didn't die cleanly—she was killed in a warg attack." A heavy sigh left his mouth and he felt a small ache grow in his chest. "We were t' be married in four days." Feeling Baylee's hand come to rest on his cheek, his own hand rose up and came to rest overtop hers, keeping it in place.

"That's horrible," she murmured, her thumb caressing his skin. "I'm so sorry…"

His eyes opened again and he looked down only to find hers staring up at him. A tender smile came to his lips before he placed a soft kiss on her lips. "I've got you now," he murmured. "An' you've got me. You know that, aye? I'm here for you, love, no matter what." He stole a second kiss from her.

He had intended to let it linger, but someone cleared their throat. The pair look over at the storeroom door with wide, surprised eyes only to find Will standing there, a mixture of confusion, exhaustion, and curiosity on his face as he stared at them. "…Am…I interruptin'?" he asked.

"N-No," Baylee squeaked, her cheeks as red as tomatoes. "Bo-Bofur was just helpin' me through a small breakdown." She watched as her brother closed the door behind him; it was then she noticed he held a mug of tea. "How's papa?"

"Funny, because it sure looked like the two o' you were gettin' ready t' snog," he replied, amusement in his voice. Then, sighing, he held the mug out to Baylee, who thanked him as she took it. "I know you weren't, though I'll be askin' more about that later. Papa's goin' to live, but it'll take a few weeks at the very least before he's up an' walkin' again."

Though he found it a bit endearing to hear Will call his father 'papa', Bofur didn't comment on it. "What even happened t' him?"

He moved to sit atop a barrel. "You two heard the explosions earlier, aye?" The pair nodded; Baylee couldn't help but notice how hoarse his voice sounded and wondered if it was because he had inhaled smoke. "It was the Flyin' Hen."

"What!?" Baylee cried, eyes widening in a mixture of shock and horror. "B-but how!?"

"No one knows. Those who survived and are well enough t' talk said somethin' about the sound o' wood breakin' an' some sort o' cloud floating out o' the kitchen right before the explosion happened. Some witnesses from the outside say they saw what looked like fireworks goin' off upstairs."

"What?" Bofur frowned. "That makes no sense—why would there be fireworks goin' off in an inn o' all places?"

Will shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe Mannus had bought some for the midsummer festival. He's always been fond o' them, after all."

"But how did papa get caught up in the explosion?"

"He didn't. He an' I were part o' a small group who were bringing out as many casualties as we could find." He let out a heavy sigh and tiredly rubbed his face. "But the explosion damaged the building's structural stability. Da', Bard, an' I were just goin' in to grab the last casualty we could get to when part o' the roof collapsed." He buried his face in his hands. "He heard it about t' come down an' shoved us out o' the way just in time, but he got trapped."

Baylee quietly whimpered, feeling her jaw beginning to shake again. Bofur gave her a gentle squeeze. "H-how bad are his injuries?"

"Some cracked ribs, a badly broken arm, a twisted leg, an' lots an' lots o' cuts and burns. He probably thumped his head pretty hard, too, but it's hard t' tell at the moment, since he's unconscious." He swallowed hard. "Uncle says…uncle says there's a chance he might have t' amputate the lower half o' da's arm."

"Wh-why?"

"It's bad. It got crushed by a beam." He rubbed the back of his neck when Baylee clapped a hand over her mouth. "Only time will tell, though. Uncle's being extra cautious, since we don't know the full extent o' the damage to his arm."

"Estë an' Nienna are lookin' out for him, I'm sure," Bofur said, gently rubbing Baylee's upper arm.

"We can only hope." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Valar help us, now that auntie an' da' are hurt, I'm goin' t' have t' come back an' run the inn."

Baylee frowned at that. "N-no, you're not," she told him. "At least, not yet you don't. I can run it up until it's time for me an' Ori t' go down t' Laketown."

He looked up, his brow rose. "You can't possibly be seriously, 'Lee—you can't go t' Laketown. Not with da' like this."

"That's exactly why I have t' go, though," she frowned. "Uncle needs t' stay here and watch over da' an' auntie, which means he won't be able t' get his herbs and medicines. But if I go, I can get them for him."

"You can't remember everything he needs, though."

"I'll have him write me a list."

Will paused, his brow rising ever so slightly. Then, speaking before realizing he was even saying anything, he said, "But you can't read." When his brain registered what he had said, his eyes widened in horror. "Valar help me, I'm sorry, 'Lee! I didn't meant to—"

"I-I'll have Ori read t' me, then," Baylee interjected, trying to hide her embarrassment. "Regardless, someone has t' go down t' Laketown an' get uncle's supplies for him."

"But if you go, then how am I suppose t' make the shelves for Bifur an' Bofur?"

It was then Bofur cleared his throat. "May I make a suggestion?" he asked.

The siblings blinked, but nodded in acquiesce.

"The two o' you are still in shock about what happened," he began, "so your minds are all sorts o' befuddled with worry. Which is entirely understandable, given the circumstances. But I think the two o' you should take a wee bit o' time t' clear your minds before making any sort o' big decisions, such as which one o' you is goin' t' be in charge o' the Tankard for the next while."

Will sighed, but nodded in agreement. "Aye, you're right. This is something we're goin' t' have t' discuss after dinner an' probably with uncle, too."

Baylee nodded before taking a sip of her tea. Thanks to having been too distracted to drink it until then, the tea was at the perfect temperature. Sighing, she closed her eyes and rested her head against Bofur's shoulder once more.

"Not t' change the subject or anything," Will began, "but when did the two o' you become close enough t' start kissin' on each other?" Though his eyes were exhausted, there was bit of an amused smile on his lips when he watched the pair turn bright red.

Clearing her throat, Baylee did her best to sound rather matter-of-fact. "A few days ago." Despite her best efforts, however, there was still a bit of an embarrassed lilt to her voice.

"Does this mean you've made your choice then?" His grin got a bit wider; he needed this good news after the day he had had.

"Y-yes…an' no," she sighed. "It's a wee bit complicated."

"She has chosen me," Bofur explained, "but she wasn't supposed t' let me know until after she had spent a whole day with Rán like she had me."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Will nodded and leaned back slightly. "But, she let the beans spill, I take it?"

Baylee sighed. "Aye, I did. It was partly Bofur's fault, though." She glanced up at the dwarf's face, a soft laugh leaving her mouth when she saw the wide, cheeky grin on his lips. "We were flirtin' an' he said somethin' along the lines of 'Keep talking like that, lass, an' you'll make me think you've chosen me'. An' then I accidentally blurted out that I had."

"Well, I think you've made the right choice," Will chuckled. "Bofur's been nothin' but good for you ever since he got here."

It was Bofur's turn to turn red again. "I'm not so sure I know what you mean by that, lad…I've not treated her any different than I've treated anyone else—other than the occasional attempt at flirtin', I mean. An' now, the occasional hug an' kiss."

"You make her laugh—an' I don't mean little giggles or chuckles. I don't think I've seen her laugh this much in nearly two years. Nor have I seen her smile an' blush as much as she does when around you."

"An' he makes me feel safe," Baylee quietly added, nuzzling Bofur's cheek with her nose.

Will smiled, watching as Bofur brought Baylee a bit closer before kissing her temple. He quietly chuckled and shook his head before standing up. "The two o' you were made for one another, you know that?"

Baylee's cheeks pinkened. "Aye, well, so were you an' Adela," she retorted. She then frowned slightly upon realizing how poor of a comeback that was. "I'm…not very good at comebacks."

"There, that's the last o' it, I promise."

"Good…not sure how much more o' the stuff I can drink. It tastes horrid."

"Well, it is medicine, papa." Baylee gave him a small smile as she set the bowl on his nightstand. "When have you ever had a medicine that tasted good?"

Warren quietly laughed, his eyes opened partway to look at her. "You've got a point, 'Lee," he said, his voice still hoarse from all the smoke he had inhaled earlier. "Though, that lemon-ginger tea you've got isn't bad."

"Because it's not medicine—it's just helpful tea." She brushed some hair over her shoulder, doing her best to not look at her father's wounds. Though he had been cleaned up and his wounds dressed, Warren was still covered in cuts, bruises, and minor burns. "Do you want me t' make you some?"

He slowly shook his head. "No, not right now," he replied. "Maybe come morning, I'll take some, though." His eyes clenched shut and he clenched his jaw in pain as he shifted himself.

"Careful, papa," Baylee squeaked, lurching forward to help him as best she could.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he assured her, getting himself laid back down in a more comfortable position. "These aren't my first set o' broken an' cracked bones, love—they're not even my second or third." He slightly chuckled, afraid to laugh any harder for fear of bringing pain to his chest. "An' they probably won't be my last, either."

She frowned. "Well, hopefully if ever you get more broken bones, it'll be because o' somethin' stupid you did rather than you fightin' or jumpin' in to help people."

"To be fair, both o' those can count as me doin' something stupid." He grinned tiredly while Baylee rolled her eyes.

"I don't think it was stupid in this case," she said with a small, exasperated laugh. "From what Will told me, you helped t' save a lot o' people."

Lifting his good arm, he ran his fingers through his hair. "Aye…Have you heard anythin' about the casualties? Or if Mannus was among them?"

Baylee let out a small sigh. "Three died," she told him. "Mister and Missus Robertson an' Gunnar Kettleburn."

Closing his eyes, Warren let out a heavy sigh. "I'm not surprise those three passed…They were the ones closest t' the explosion," he murmured. "An' the others?"

"There are four others who are close t' death's door, but they're hangin' on. Everyone else has either minor injuries or ones similar t' you." She looked down at her lap, her hand rising up to start rubbing her necklace. "As for Mannus…no one's seen him. He's not among the casualties, nor has anyone seen him around the city."

"…Are you serious?"

She nodded. "I'm afraid so. We're wonderin' if his body's under the worst o' the rubble. Because he was seen shortly before the explosion."

"Did anyone ever find out why he had fireworks stashed away…?"

"Adela said he was goin' t' use them to drum up business when it came time for the midsummer festival."

He nodded slowly, his hand rising up once more to cover his mouth as he yawned. "How's she takin' the news?"

"She's…she's tryin' t' put on a brave face, but we can still tell that this hit her deeply. I told her t' take the rest o' the night off so she can be with Will." Seeing his brow rise, she quickly added, "They've been curled up together in the living room, right in plain sight."

"And what about you…? What have you been doing?"

"Well…after I had a small breakdown from seein' you covered in blood an' such, I've been doin' my job: Servin' people an' helpin' out in the kitchen when I can."

Again, he nodded, though his brows furrowed and he opened his eyes. "You had a breakdown…?"

Biting her lower lip, she glanced away. "Aye, I did. Seein' you like that threw me back t' when I saw you after the War." A soft sigh left her mouth and she closed her eyes. "Bofur comforted me, though, an' got me somewhere where I could have a proper cry."

"I'm sorry, love." He reached over, setting his hand atop hers; no matter how many times he saw the difference in their sizes, he always found it humorous. Though she would soon be thirty, Baylee's hand was the same size it had been when she was ten. "If I had been conscious, I would have told your brother t' make sure you didn't see me." He gave her hand a small squeeze.

She shook her head. "No, no—it's fine, papa," she assured him. "I mean, it's not, but it is—does that even make sense?" Frowning in confusion she shook her head. "My point is, aye, it was shockin' to see you like that, but when I saw you the second time, you were all cleaned up an' looked far better. I could actually believe you were goin' to live when I saw you the second time."

Giving her hand a second squeeze, Warren smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, love," he said again. "I'm glad you had someone there t' take care o' you, though. Seems like Bofur's been doin' that a lot lately."

Her cheeks turned pink and she smiled. "Aye, he has," she chuckled. "An' I'm quite thankful for it, too. Especially today…I think I'd still be standin' still as a statue in the middle o' the hall if it hadn't been for him."

His brow rose slightly, his apologetic expression turning into one of knowing. Not wanting to beat around the bush, he said, "He's the one who's won your heart."

She stiffened slightly; after letting Will and Wenna know, she hadn't wanted to tell anyone else that she had already chosen her beau for fear of word getting out. But, given that her father would be stuck in bed, it wasn't likely he would be telling anyone anything anytime soon. "Aye, he is," she admitted, her cheeks growing darker. "I wasn't supposed t' have picked one so soon, but…My heart had other plans."

He tiredly chuckled. "Have you told the lads yet?"

"I've told Bofur—on accident, though. I hadn't planned on tellin' either o' them until I spent a day with Rán just t' make extra sure, but…I sort o' blurted it out t' Bofur."

Nodding in understanding, he smiled. "Well, regardless, I'm glad you finally found someone, love. An' now that you an' Will both have someone, maybe I'll finally get some gr—"

"Don't finish that sentence, papa," she interrupted, her voice dry. "That's somethin' for the future. Right now, my biggest worry is talkin' with Will an' figurin' out how we're going t' handle the runnin' o' the inn situation."

"I was just pullin' your leg, love. I don't need either you or Will followin' in mine an' your mum's footsteps." His hand rose up, covering his mouth as he yawned.

"I should probably let you get some rest," she said with a small frown. She knew that he was trying to keep himself awake to keep talking with her, but if he wanted to heal, he needed to sleep. "I'll come by an' check on you in the morning, alright? Will an' I probably both will."

He nodded slowly, giving her a tired smile. "Alright, love. Don't fret your freckly little head over me too much, do you hear? I'm goin' to be fine." As she leaned over and gave him a gentle hug, he kept himself from wincing; gentle though she was, he was all but a solid bruise and even the slightest bit of pressure hurt.

"Sleep well, papa," she told him, kissing the top of his head. Picking up the empty bowl from his nightstand, she also turned the wick of his oil lamp down for him. She then left the room, a quiet sigh leaving her mouth.

"How's he doing?" She looked up, seeing Will at the end of the hall.

"He drank all his medicine an' is about to get some sleep," she told him. She pushed some hair from her face while walking towards him. "How're things out front?"

"All locked up. Adela's sweepin' an' then she'll be heading to bed."

Nodding in understanding, she leaned against the wall. "I suppose it's time we discuss the temporary future o' the inn, then."

"Aye, we should. Though, I don't think the hallway is the best place t' do it in." With a quiet laugh, he reached over and hooked an arm around her shoulders. "Come on…let's go plop in our chairs, shall we?"

"Good idea," she smiled. When Will looked down at her, he could see dark circles beginning to form under her eyes; he made a mental note to try and keep their talk as short as possible.

After both were situated in their chairs, Baylee with her legs tucked beneath her and the empty bowl sitting on the table beside her while Will sprawled himself out on the couch. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back over the armrest.

"I need to finish up those shelving units for Bofur and Bifur," he started, "which I can't do if I'm here, running the inn. However, if I call in a couple of favors and have some of my friends help me, I can probably get the furniture finished by the time you leave for Laketown."

She nodded in understanding. "That'll be good, because uncle really needs his medicines. I know we could just have another healer come in an' check on papa, but…well, uncle's free," she chuckled. A small sigh then left her mouth. "And I hate t' say it, but for as good o' a doctor as he is, he's not the best when it comes t' runnin' an inn."

Will winced slightly as he remembered the time their father had left Richard in charge of the inn for just a few hours during the start of the busy season. "With how organized he is with his herbs and various concoctions, you'd think he'd be a pretty good fit for the job," he sighed. "But I remember da' spendin' nearly an hour tryin' to fix that guestbook."

"Aye…that was the day he decided he'd build himself a forge off t' the side o' the stables." She quietly chuckled and let her head fall back against the cushion. "So…I run the inn until I have t' leave, then you run the inn until I get back?"

He nodded. "Aye…You're going t' be better at runnin' this place anyway."

"Why do you say that?"

"You already practically run it, 'Lee. You're the head hostess, you keep track o' where the usuals sit an' what they want t' eat an' drink, you fill out the guestbook, you're sweet an' cute as a wee field mouse…I wouldn't be surprised if you were the one t' permanently take over when da' retires."

Baylee tilted her head, confusion coming to her face. "Why's that? Don't you want t' take over…?" Usually, it was the sons who took over their father's business, after all.

Will's cheeks turned a touch pink. "To be honest, 'Lee…I don't think I do. I've already put so much time an' effort into rebuilding this place. I kind o' feel like it's time for me t' move on t' somethin' else—something that isn't the inn or travelin' t' Dorwinion."

She nodded in understanding. "An' somethin' tells me that you'd like t' eventually move t' your own home with Adela." A small, teasing grin came to her lips when she saw his cheeks starting to turn red.

"There is a house that we've both had our eyes on. It'd take a bit o' work t' get it livable again, o' course, but…I can really see me an' her raising a family an' growin' old there."

"Which house?"

"That three story one in the south-western portion o' the city—you know, the one with the fruit trees in the back yard?"

Her eyes widened slightly. "Ooh, the fancy one!" Her brow then rose somewhat when he nodded in confirmation. "But it's so big…unless you plan on havin' a whole brood o' bairns, then why one so big?"

He cleared his throat, his cheeks growing darker. "It…may be where Adela and I used to meet up," he admitted.

"Ooh, say no more," she said, a cheeky grin coming to her lips. "It holds sentimental value for you…among other things, like a forgotten piece o' clothing or three." She giggled as Will threw a pillow at her; she caught it and tucked it beside her. "Oh, don't be like that—I know you an' I know that you had to have, most definitely, forgotten a piece o' clothing there!"

A pout came to his lips. "Just you wait until you an' Bofur start sneakin' off…Then I'll be the one pokin' fun at you when you forget a piece o' clothing or somethin'." He smirked as he watched Baylee's cheeks turn bright red.

"I-I highly doubt that Bofur an' me will be doin' any sort o' sneaking around." Clearing her throat, she shifted slightly. "I don't think we'd really have the energy t' do much sneakin' around anyway. With me bein' a hostess an' him bein' a toymaker an' toyshop owner, we're going t' be fairly busy."

"You'll find a way, trust me," Will teased. "If Adela was able t' sneak out from under Mannus' watchful gaze, I'm sure you'll be able t' get out some nights."

Her brow rose slightly. "You know, most brothers would be advocatin' for their sisters t' not sneak out," she told him, voice dry.

He shrugged, the grin still on his lips. "Well, most brothers aren't me," he stated. "An' most blokes aren't Bofur. If more blokes were like Bofur, then more brothers would be like me."

"You…have a very odd mind sometimes, you know that?" Shaking her head, she moved to stand up. "I need t' return this t' the kitchen. Do you need anything while I'm in there?"

"If there's any o' that crumble left, I'll take a wee bit o' that. Only if it's not too much trouble, though."

Nodding, she grabbed one of the spare keys from beside the door and left the private quarters. The common room was fairly dark, given that everyone had gone to bed and the inn was locked up for the evening. Her brow rose, though, when she saw a bit of light spilling out from beneath the kitchen door.

'Alright, who's up this late at night?' she thought. 'Maybe Adela? Will did say she had been sweepin'…'

With some caution in her movements, she approached the kitchen door and pushed it open. Her brows only furrowed in confusion; there was an oil lamp sitting on the counter and the kitchen door was wide open. Just as she started to walk towards the open door, however, a figure walked in: Rán. Upon seeing Baylee there, he looked both startled and happy.

"My lady, I was not expecting to see you in here so late," he commented. In his hand, he held a pitcher, rivulets of water running down its sides.

"Nor was I expectin' you t' be up," she said with a small chuckle. "Did one o' us lasses forget t' fill your water today?"

He shook his head, setting the pitcher down on the counter before turning back around to close the door. "I drank most of it earlier," he admitted, "and with it being so late, I did not wish to bother anyone." Locking the door, he let out a soft sigh and ran his hand through his hair. "How is your father doing?"

"He's…hurtin'. An' will be hurtin' for quite some time." A sigh of her own left her mouth and she went over to the sink, placing the bowl down in it. "Given that he's bedridden for the foreseeable future, I'll be runnin' the inn until I leave for Laketown."

Rán's head tilted in curiosity. "Not your brother?"

"No. Will needs t' finish up some work for Bifur an' Bofur," she explained, "but when I leave, he'll be takin' over." Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, she turned around to face him only to find that he was now leaning against the counter. Her cheeks pinkened slightly; regardless of Bofur owning her heart, she had to admit that Rán was extremely handsome, especially when he was leaning so casually.

"I take it, then, that I will not be able to steal you away for a few hours sometimes before your trip?"

"I'm afraid not," she told him, an apologetic smile on her lips.

He nodded in understanding; to her surprise, however, a mischievous smile came to his lips. "That is alright," he said, "because I will be accompanying you and the others down to Laketown."

Her brows furrowed slightly in confusion. "But your—" It was then she noticed that his arm was no longer in a sling and that he was, in fact, resting his weight on it—something he hadn't been able to do a few days ago.

"While it is not yet fully healed, my arm is healed enough that I can return to my duties, yes," he chuckled. "Seth finally gave me his permission to resume my usual routine." As he spoke, he walked towards her only to stop barely a foot from her. Reaching over, he gently caught her chin between his thumb and index finger before lifting it a touch. "Though, I do admit that I am going to miss seeing your lovely face so often over the next two weeks," he murmured. Leaning over, he pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss, his thumb lightly caressing her chin.

She felt her cheeks grow even warmer and she instinctively kissed him in return. Guilt, however, started to fill both her mind and her gut; yes, she still found him attractive and sweet, but he wasn't Bofur. And even though Bofur had told her he was fine with her keeping up this charade until she had fulfilled her word to Rán, she still felt like she was cheating on him in a way. As such, she abruptly ended the kiss, which earned a look of confusion from the ranger.

"I-I'm sorry," she told him, "but…with everything's that happened today, I just…"

"I understand, my lady," he told her, his voice soft and gentle. Brushing his knuckles against her cheek, he instead kissed her forehead. "My apologies. I should have realized that you are not in the best state for stealing kisses."

A relieved smile came to her lips; she had, admittedly, thought he would get upset with her. "Thank you…for understanding, I mean."

He returned the smile, though his was a mixture of pity and apologetic. "Of course, my lady. Before I return to my room, is there anything you need assistance with?"

She shook her head. "No, no…I just need t' get Will a bowl o' crumble an' then I'll be heading t' bed."

Nodding, he kissed her forehead again. "Alright. I hope you sleep well, my lady, and that tomorrow is a much better day for you."

"Thank you. I hope you sleep well, too, Rán." She watched as, pitcher in hand, he took his leave of the kitchen. A quiet sigh then left her mouth and she somewhat slumped against the counter. 'I don't think I'll be able to keep this up for much longer,' she thought, rubbing her necklace. 'I'll tell him partway through the trip…I know it'll make things awkward, but he'll have spent more time with me than Bofur by that point, so it'd be fair enough, right? I just hope he won't hate me when I tell him…'