A/N: Hey, all, sorry for the belated upload. Mom had her first day of chemo yesterday, so I spent most of the day tending to her. By the time she was sleeping well, I was too mentally drained to do any editing and uploading.

Will boredly sat at the counter, his stool tilted back on just two legs while he rested his back against one of the large barrels of alcohol. Fili and Dwalin had left the previous day and, not much to his surprise, the common room wasn't even half full because of their absence. Many of the non-regulars had visited only to try and catch a glimpse of the dwarven prince, after all. And most of those who were staying in the inn were out either sightseeing or doing business with the local merchants.

Regardless of the lack of customers, however, he knew he had to stay present in the common room should any new guests arrive.

"You know, that stool could very easily slip out from underneath you an' send you crashin' to the floor." He looked over to see his uncle standing at the far end of the bar; he looked tired and a bit downtrodden, but there was the tiniest bit of a smile on his lips.

Leaning forward so that the stool fell onto all four of its legs, he chuckled. "Ah, I was bein' cautious," he chuckled. Despite the bit of humor he felt, his uncle's stoic expression made a knot start to form in his stomach. "You look like you have more t' say to me than just a simple scoldin' though."

"I'm afraid I do." Sighing heavily, he ran a hand through his hair and came to stand nearer to his nephew. In a quieter voice, he told him, "I have to remove the arm."

He felt his stomach drop and some color drain from his face. "…It's gotten that bad?" Richard nodded. "That's…not really what I was hopin' to hear."

"It's not what I was hopin' would happen," Richard sighed. "I've thrown my strongest medicines at that arm an'…they just weren't enough." He shook his head, his eyes closing for a moment. "I will need your help, though, Will. As well as Peter's."

"We might even need Gawen. Da's strong as an ox an', while Peter an' me aren't small, we'll still need that extra bit of strength t' keep him pinned down."

Nodding once more, Richard sighed. "We'll also need to take him t' the laundry room."

"The laundry room? Because it's got plenty o' space?"

"And it'll be easier t' clean up the blood as well as grab the cauterizing iron. I've already got a fire going out there an' a cauldron of water over it to boil. Galiene's boiling me up a smaller pot so I can clean my instruments first an' I've got fish bladders soaking in some warm water t' make the bandage adhesive."

Will shuddered as he thought about the extreme pain his father would be in. "You're…you're goin' t' make sure that da's unconscious for this, right?"

Richard shook his head. "Not unconscious, no, but I've mixed up an extra strong tincture for him, so he shouldn't be in his right mind at the very least." He ran his hand through his hair once more. "I can't have him unconscious, though. This is a big procedure an', even if he is out o' his wits, there's still a chance o' him going into shock. And I can only diagnose that if he's awake."

Nodding in understanding, Will let out a heavy sigh. "Baylee's not going t' like coming back t' this news."

"I know she won't, lad," he agreed, "but she knows full well it's either Warren's arm or his life." He then gave Will a reassuring smile. "An' I'm sure she'll be more than a little thankful that she doesn't have to be there when it happens—unlike you."

"Aye, that's true." He rubbed the side of his neck. "Not that I want t' be there, either, but…At least this wouldn't be the first amputation I'd have t' help with." He gave his uncle a joyless smile; he tried not to think about the arms and legs he had seen get cut off after the Battle of Five Armies. "Where are you cuttin' it off at?"

"Right at the elbow," he replied, "so, should all go well, I'll only need t' make a couple o' cuts through muscle and tendon instead o' having to bring out my saw." He watched Will cringe at the description. "I know it's not the most pleasant thing t' hear, but it really does make things easier. An' if things are easier for me, then that means a greater chance o' your da' not having to lose more than half an arm in the long run."

A quiet sigh left his mouth as Will nodded. "I understand. What does da' think, though?"

"He's…nervous, but he understands that it's the only thing we can do, next to havin' an elf heal him—an', currently, there aren't many elven healers around." He closed his eyes for a moment and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry you're going to have to be present for it, Will," he said after a moment. "It's bad enough, havin' to see your da' injured in bed like that, but also havin' to be there when he gets his arm amputated…"

"I don't like the thought o' it, that's for certain, but at least he'll have familiar faces around him—even if he is as loopy as can be." He managed to give his uncle a small smile; he knew it had to be hard on Richard, too. He had tended to so many injuries for their family throughout the years, but while he had performed amputations before, none had been related to him.

"That's very true," he agreed with a small, halfhearted chuckle. "Do you know when your sister is due back, by the way?" He knew Will couldn't leave the room until Baylee returned.

He shook his head. "No, but she left 'bout an hour an' a half ago, so I can only imagine that she'll be back soon enough."

Richard nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but a voice from behind them interrupted before he could utter a sound.

"Richard, the water's boilin' away," Galiene called out to him. "Would you like me t' leave it here or should I have Gawen take it t' the laundry?"

He gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "Leave it over the fire, please. I need to keep it at a roiling boil for cleaning my instruments." He looked back at Will as Galiene ducked back into the kitchen, giving him another halfhearted smile. "Come find me when your sister is back, alright?"

"Will do." When his uncle had disappeared into the kitchen, he let out a heavy sigh and, tilting his chair back on two legs once more, he rubbed his face in frustration. Letting his head fall back against the barrel, he stared at the ceiling. 'At least he's alive,' he told himself. 'He's alive and he's going to be getting better a lot faster once that infection is removed.'

Opening his eyes, he could see a familiar redhead making her way over to him from the kitchen, a small smile on her lips as she used a dishtowel to dry her hands off. "How're you doin', love?" she asked, coming behind the bar to stand beside him. Leaning over, she kissed the top of his head.

"I…could be better, admittedly."

"Aye, I can understand that." Crossing her arms under her chest, she leaned, sideways, against one of the ale barrels. "It can't be easy, knowing what's goin' t' happen t' your da' in a little bit."

"It's scary, that's for sure," he agreed. "I just have t' remember that this will hopefully help him heal up faster, since he won't have that infection suppressin' things anymore."

She nodded in agreement. "That's true. Who knows—maybe after this, your da' will be back on his feet in just a week or two instead o' the month your uncle was estimating when he was first brought in here."

A soft laugh left Will's lips. "That'd be somethin', wouldn't it?" he said, his brow rising. "Then again, dad's always been a fairly quick healer." He paused a moment, his brows then furrowing. "Actually, come t' think o' it, me an' 'Lee are also fairly quick when it comes t' healing. But we're not nearly as quick as he is."

Adela chuckled and she lifted her brow. "Maybe your da's side has elven blood in it an' you just don't know it?" she half-joked. "Or maybe Estë has blessed your family?"

Unable to stop himself, Will snorted. "I highly doubt both of those, my love. Though, the latter is quite a nice thought." Hearing the door open, he glanced over in time to see a small group of regulars stepping into the inn. Mustering up a smile, he called over a greeting and gave them a small wave. They returned the greeting before going over and occupying one of the tables; a moment later, Rosalyn was heading over to the table to take their order. "You know, I admittedly had my doubts about your cousins working here, given that they got t' live a life o' relative luxury, but I'm quite happy t' have been proven wrong."

Quietly laughing, Adela reached over and brushed some loose strands of hair from his face, sweeping them behind his ear. "Primrose an' Rosalyn have always been good workers," she softly laughed, "but it's Rosamunde who's taken me by surprise. She's usually the fuss pot who doesn't like t' get her hands or her clothes dirty. But that's definitely been changin' quite a bit since she started workin' here."

He leaned into her touch, a soft sigh leaving his mouth. "Poor Baylee an' Wenna would have been worked t' the bone over the last few days if we didn't have those Lightfoots here helpin' out."

"An' to think that it'll only get worse the closer it gets t' the midsummer festival," she chuckled. Her brow rose in amusement when Will groaned and covered his face with his hand. "Someone doesn't sound like he's lookin' forward t' running the inn for the next couple o' weeks."

Will looked up at her with a pout. "I'm not goin' t' complain about how bored I'll be, but I will say that it'll only solidify the fact that I'm not suited t' run this place," he told her. 'Not to mention, I could be using those weeks to be earning money through my woodworking…' he told himself. 'Though, maybe I could do some carving work? Some out-of-towners might be interested in buying some of those…'

"Will?" Adela's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "Love, did you hear me?"

"Hm? No, sorry." He gave her an apologetic smile. "What did you say?"

She pointed behind him, chuckling. "Your sister's back."

Blinking, he looked to his left to find that Baylee, indeed, had returned. In front of her, she carried a large basket, its contents covered by a plain white cloth. "Ah, there you are, 'Lee," he said, mustering up another smile. "I was wonderin' when you'd be comin' back." He was uncertain if he should be the one to tell her the news or if he should let their uncle do that. 'No, it should probably be me—Uncle's probably busy cleaning his tools.'

Baylee chuckled, pausing by the counter. "Beginnin' t' get bored, were you?"

"Just a wee bit." Tipping his chair forward once more, he stood up. "Adela, love, could you man the counter for just a few minutes? I'd like t' talk with Baylee in private." From the corner of his eye, he could see some apprehension come to his sister's face.

"Of course I can." She gave him a knowing smile before rising on her tiptoes and giving him a peck on the cheek. Then, taking him a bit by surprise, she reached over and gave his bum a playful little smack when she knew no one was paying attention.

He blew a raspberry at her from over his shoulder, earning a giggle in response. Shaking his head, he moved to walk alongside Baylee as they made their way towards the family quarters.

Once they were a couple of yards from Adela, Baylee looked up at her brother. "You need t' talk t' me about papa, don't you?"

Will looked down at her, frowning. "How did—?"

"I saw uncle carryin' a steaming pot into the laundry room when I came back. That, and…about ten minutes ago, I got a sickly feeling in my stomach out o' nowhere." She bit her tongue as she glanced up at him. "His arm has t' come off, doesn't it?"

Rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, he pulled his key from his pocket with the other. "Aye, it does—but not all o' it. Uncle's just going t' take it off from the elbow down."

She nodded in understanding, watching Will unlock the door. "Well…that's a wee bit o' a relief, I guess," she said before letting out a heavy sigh. "At least with that infection gone, papa will heal faster." As her brother opened the door, she stepped into the family quarters first, before waiting for him to follow.

"Aye, that's very true," he agreed. Now that they were both in the family room, he locked the door once more. "I have t' admit, you're takin' this a lot better than I expected you to."

"I've been bracing myself t' hear this news," she admitted. "Like mum used to say: Hope for the best while preparin' for the worst." She looked up at him, a small smile on her lips; it did little to hide her worry.

Reaching over, Will set his hand on her shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. "I should have done that," he said with a chuckle. "I'm still in quite a bit o' shock, t' be honest. Hearin' the news that da' has to lose half o' his arm isn't exactly the sort o' news I was anticipating on hearin' today."

Her brow rose. "An' what kind o' news were you anticipating on hearing?"

"No news—as no news is good news."

While she was tempted to remind her brother that that wasn't always the case, Baylee merely shook her head. "Let's hope that's the only bad news we have t' hear for the day," she said instead. "How was the inn, by the way?"

"Borin'. Only got regulars comin' in t' get a spot t' eat. No new guests—though I suppose that'll be changing in the coming weeks." He started to follow her down the hall towards their rooms; as they passed by the door to Warren's room, they made sure to quiet their voices, lest he was managing to get a bit of sleep before his surgery.

"Huh. Well, I suppose we should be a bit thankful for that. Gives us an' the others a wee bit o' rest between now an' when the next rush o' customers comes in." She opened her bedroom door and carried the basket over to her bed, where she started to empty its contents.

"It's also a nice way t' reintroduce me t' being behind the counter." He leaned against her doorframe, watching as she pulled out a couple of small bundles that were wrapped in clean, white cloth; he supposed they were filled things like dried fruit and jerky. "Starting off slow an' I'll work my way up t' the crazy days once you're gone."

She quietly laughed, her brow rising. "That's true. Though, for all our sakes, I hope it doesn't get too crazy while I'm away. I know this is takin' you away from helpin' Bifur an' Bofur, which also means you're not earnin' as much money as before…" The basket now empty, she plucked it off her bed and turned back around; she put the things in her travel pack before bed.

At that, he sighed. "Aye, that's true. But I've been thinkin' that I could carve some little statues durin' any downtime I get. There's a chance some guests would be interested in purchasin' those."

"That's a really good idea, actually," she smiled. "I'm sure at least a few guests would be willing t' buy some o' your carvings."

"You think?" He stepped aside so she could leave the room. "I know if it was furniture, people would be willin' t' buy it, but just little statuettes…?"

Pursing her lips, Baylee stood on her tiptoes and poked him in the chest—it was a less than threatening sight to anyone who wasn't Will. "William Braddock, you need t' have more confidence in yourself an' the things you make. We have people stayin' here from faraway lands—I'm certain they'll want t' take home a lovely little souvenir—especially one that was crafted by someone who loves his work."

Will let out a sound that was half sigh, half chuckle. "I can always count on you t' have confidence in me when I don't," he told her, a smile on his lips.

"O' course you can," she said, crossing her arms over her chest in a matter-of-fact way. "I'm your big sister."

He was unable to stop himself from snorting. Reaching down, he ruffled her hair and chuckled, "Aye, an' you're the smallest big sister a person can get."

The morning had seemed to pass by in the blink of an eye, but now that she was back behind the counter of the inn and awaiting any news on how her father was doing, Baylee's afternoon had slowed down to an anxious crawl. In an attempt to keep herself distracted enough that she wouldn't start fearing the worst had happened to Warren, she had set about rearranging the shelves below the counter. They had always been a jumbled mess with the tankards, goblets, and cups all mixed together, but by the time she had finished the job, they were each neatly lined up in segregated rows.

"There…that should make things a wee bit easier," she told herself as she leaned back to admire her work.

"Make what things a wee bit easier?"

Baylee was just barely able to keep herself from squeaking in surprise. Looking up, she found Bofur leaning over the corner, a playful grin on his lips. Judging by how far he leaning over, she knew he had to be on his knees atop one of the stools.

Returning the smile, she brushed her hands off on her apron before standing up. "Finding the appropriate drinkin' vessels," she replied. "You're back a lot earlier than I expected."

"Ah, not for very long I'm afraid," he admitted, a bit of an apologetic look coming to his face as he shifted around to sift on his bum instead of his knees. "I actually came t' look for your brother. He said he'd be back at the shop by now, but he hasn't shown up. I wanted t' make sure—" He paused when he saw Baylee's smile turn into a frown. "What is it?"

Sighing, she brought over her stool and sat down atop it. "He's helpin' my uncle right now. Hopefully not for much longer, but…" Biting her lower lip, she leaned forward slightly, plopping her chin on one hand while the other nervously drummed her fingers against the countertop. "Uncle's havin' t' amputate half o' papa's arm."

He cringed and a pitying frown appeared on his lips. "I'm sorry t' hear that, love," he said. Reaching over, he set his hand atop hers and gave it a gentle squeeze; his frown was then replaced by a reassuring smile. "It shouldn't be too bad, though. Once the stump heals up, he can head over t' Erebor an' get himself fitted for a prosthetic or two. I know o' some dwarrows who have prosthetics that can be fitted out with various tools so they can keep goin' about their work, even!"

Baylee was unable to keep herself from quietly giggling. "Adela, Will, an' me were actually jokin' around about papa getting a prosthetic like that a few days ago," she told him. Turning her hand over, she did her best to return the squeeze. "Though, we were sayin' he'd try t' make one himself, first."

"Your da' does seem the type who'd try t' do that, despite havin' only one hand," he chuckled, his brow rising. "The funny thing is, he also seems the type who'd succeed at makin' his own prosthetic despite havin' only one hand. Not a good one, mind you, but a prosthetic nevertheless."

Another quiet laugh left her mouth and she cocked her brow. "Not t' be biased, but I think you're right—papa would somehow manage t' do that with just one hand." She glanced at the kitchen from the corner of her eye, watching as Rosalyn and Rosamunde came out; they were both carrying a tray of food. Reluctantly, she slipped her hand from Bofur's so the others wouldn't see their little gesture of affection. "But I'm sure papa will be payin' Erebor a visit in the near future for that exact reason. He's goin' t' need something t' help him keep smithing, after all."

"If he'd like a wee bit o' help gettin' around the place, I'd be more than happy t' assist." He gave her a playful wink and, as her cheeks grew red and she laughed, a grin came to his lips.

"I'm sure he'd gladly take you up on that offer," she chuckled. "Would you like a drink, by the way?"

He thoughtfully tapped his chin as if he were truly pondering his answer. "I probably shouldn't, since I have t' head back t' the shop soon," he said, his words full of feigned contemplation, though that was quickly replaced by mischief, "but Bifur won't have t' know. I'll take an ale if you please, love."

Brow rising once more in amusement, she lightly shook her head. "I had a feelin' you'd say something like that." Plucking up one of the tankards from the shelf, she moved to fill it with ale. "How're things goin' at the shop, by the way? Are you nearly ready t' open?"

"I'd say we're about three-quarters o' the way there," he replied, plopping his chin in his palm as he watched her. "Ori's almost done with the mural an' Will's gotten a few o' his friends t' help him with the furniture, so that's goin' by rather quick now. I'd say another two weeks an' Bifur an' me will be ready t' fetch some toys from Erebor an' have our grand opening."

"Aw, that means I'll be missin' out on your grand openin'." There was a playful pout on Baylee's lips as she turned back around and slid the ale over to him. "Guess you'll just have t' give me a wee tour o' the place when I get back."

"I'd offer t' push the openin' date back to until you get back, but we've already got wee ones standin' outside our window an' peekin' in," he smiled. Lifting the mug, he took a long drink from it before sighing in content. He hadn't gotten to talk with her on his own in a little while and, though he wished he could be holding her and stealing kisses from her as well as talking, he was enjoying their conversation.

Especially since it seemed to be keeping her mind off Warren.

She laughed, a bit of color coming to her cheeks. "Oh, I bet they are! I'm sure they're already savin' up any coppers they can get ahold of for when you finally open up. I know that's what Sigrid and Bain have been doin'."

"After gettin' to know those two a wee bit, somethin' tells me they might end up bein' our first customers."

"There is a strong chance o' that happening." She smiled and tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear. Opening her mouth to speak, she shut it again when she saw a large shape in the peripheral of her vision. Turning her head, she saw Will coming towards them; her eyes widened and it took every bit of willpower for her not to bolt off the stool and run over to him. "How is he?" she instead asked when he was close enough.

"Half an arm lighter an' sleepin' peacefully," he replied, giving her a tired smile. His face was a bit pale and his left arm was visibly shaking—that told Baylee that he had, more than likely, overexerted it. "Everything went as smooth as could be. It took us so long because, after he got it all bandaged up, uncle wanted t' make sure da' wasn't going t' go into shock."

She nodded in understanding, looking more than a little relieved. "Oh, thank Estë for that," she said, a small smile coming to her lips. "How's uncle doin'?"

"He's…I'm not sure, t' be honest," he admitted. "By all means, he seems fine, but I think havin' t' amputate his brother-in-law's arm unnerved him a bit."

"I would think havin' to amputate anyone's arm would be unnerving," Bofur said, brows furrowing, "so it's got t' be even worse when it's family."

"Exactly." Will sighed, moving to sit on the stool next to Bofur. "Can I get a cider, 'Lee?"

"O' course. Do you want me t' fetch your nerve ointment after I get your cider?"

He was about to ask why she thought he needed that when, as he set his left arm on the countertop, he could both see and feel his arm tremoring quite badly, making him frowned. "Aye, I suppose that'd be a good idea," he said, grabbing hold of his wrist. It somewhat helped, though his arm continued to tremble.

Bofur also frowned; he had seen Will's arm shake after a day of hard labor before, but not like this. "Are you goin' t' be alright, lad?" he asked, his brow rising slightly as he looked up at the man. "That's a pretty bad shake you got goin' on there."

Will nodded, a reassuring look coming to his face. "Aye, don't worry—this just happens if I've had t' hold somethin' tightly for a while." When his sister set a tankard of cider in front of him, he gave her an appreciative smile. "Thanks, 'Lee."

She nodded in return before hurrying off towards the family quarters.

"Are you sure?" Bofur asked, not entirely convinced. "I don't want you t' end up hurtin' yourself because you overworked your arm."

He laughed, his brow rising. "I'm sure," he told him. "Today's going t' mostly be planing an' moving stuff around while the others assemble things, so there's not much I'll be doing to aggravate it further."

"I'll take your word for it," he said before pointing a stern finger at him, "but I'm goin' t' have my eye on you, lad. The last thing your family needs right now is for three o' you t' be injured."

"I'm sure my sister will appreciate that," Will replied with a snort before taking a drink of the cider. Then, in a quieter voice, he asked, "How nervous are you about her bein' gone?"

Sighing, Bofur looked down into his half-empty mug. "Quite a bit," he admitted. "It's mostly the ol' dwarrow jealousy makin' me worried, though. I still don't like the thought o' Rán bein' around her so much."

Will clapped his good hand on Bofur's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I can understand that. Just keep tryin' t' remind yourself that you've already won her heart, alright?" A small, but teasing, grin then came to his lips. "You know what you should do?"

His brow rising, he looked up at the human. "An' what would that be?"

"Right before she leaves, put nine love-knots in her hair," he stated.

"Ah, I've done that before, lad—it's not deterred Rán in the least, I'm afraid," he said with a small chuckle. "A nice thought, though."

"Then you should do eighteen love-knots. That'll show him just how serious you really are."

Bofur snorted loudly.