Sorry for the delay, real life claims my attention more than I'd like.
Special thanks to Nenithiel, jilba25, ThatOtherWriterGirl, pallysd'Artagnan and salwyn77 for the hilarious reviews, our lovely idiots deserve it!
=^.^=
Tilda woke up to the chirping of birds, confused. Usually she would wake long before sunrise, years of training in the healing halls ingrained in her internal clock. Thirst parched her lips, and she stood up to fetch her waterskin. Dizziness overcame her, and she sat down again to prevent a fall.
Only then she noticed her mug beside her sleeping furs, a lukewarm concoction begging to be drunk. Her thirst prompted her to drink without care about what was brewed in it. Hasty gulps graced her with the knowledge that it had willow bark, lots of willow bark, making it bitter enough to shame a wormwood potion used to get rid of parasites.
Kíli was nowhere to be seen.
"Whatever prank he had in mind this time, I'll make him pay dearly for it…"
She mumbled as she tried again to stand up, slowly this time to prevent another wave of dizziness. Her success was awarded with a soft neigh from Broda. Tripsy was grazing close to him, which indicated the dwarf should not be far, at least.
Her waterskin had been replenished, and she drank eagerly, both to quench her thirst and to wash down the strong taste of willow bark. Her joints felt sore, and her eyes felt like sand had ingrained behind them. So, she had gotten ill. All she didn't need right now in her runaway life. She let herself collapse on her sleeping furs once more.
"G'morning, sunshine!"
Kíli greeted her from the opposite direction from the campfire, fast steps on the brink of a run until he was in front of Tilda, arms full with assorted leaves and boughs bearing fruit. A couple ptarmigans dangled from his belt, vouching his bow had been put to good use. They had traveled days long without fresh meat, and it would be a welcome change.
"Morning. What is… all this?" She gestured at his gathering results. "You didn't wake me for my watch."
He knelt down, putting the green stuff beside him and taking her hands in his. They felt strangely cold to her touch. She looked up at him and his worried eyes bored into hers.
"I tried to. I called you and you didn't stir, so I…" His mind ran fast over the truths he could say yet didn't dare. So I was bold enough to touch your cheek whilst you were asleep and wouldn't reject my approach. So I took the chance and caressed your face. So I came close to your face and felt your breath on my skin. So I took advantage of you being asleep and spent the better part of an hour just looking at you and wishing you were a dwarrowdam, but not really, else you'd have a beard hiding your beautiful face. "I got worried and felt your brow, it didn't seem as cool as humans uses to feel, then I made willow bark tea and went to fetch some herbs."
"I've got a fever, I think. Thank you for the tea." He smiled broadly at her thanks. "It was quite strong, though."
His smiled faded as fast as it had shown and Kíli stammered some excuse, to what Tilda felt she had to fix it right away.
"You don't have to know the precise dosage of stuff, silly. You're not a healer!"
"I'm sorry anyway. I just wanted to take care of you and…" He turned his eyes down to the things he gathered. "Here, I found elderberry for the fever, it's sweeter than willow bark, Amad always used it for me and Fíli; and white mallow in case your throat is sore; and I found some lemons, some people say it's juice makes you healthier. And some berries, too."
The woman looked at the assortment of medicine the dwarf had gathered; he had no healer training, of that she was sure, Óin never mentioned Kíli as his pupil. When they chatted about her own training, he expressed surprise at simple things she mentioned, making her giggle at his ignorance.
"Kíli, I… Thank you again, what else can I say? How did you know what to…"
He noticed her confusion and assured her with a smile.
"I was the problem child, remember? Born too early, always too thin, always nose deep in trouble and mayhem… I was bound to catch a cold or a fever now and then. And I have good memory, that's all."
Tilda picked some berries from the stem he brought and smiled in thanks and acceptance of his care. She could get used to it.
=^.^= =^.^=
The ride had been hard and long, everybody intent in following the orc tracks. It was quite different, to search for hidden clues and raging across a clear path. Bilbo believed he was used to ride after the journey from the Shire to Erebor, but it had been a leisure walk, nothing compared to the fury Thorin was using to lead them now. He was sure they covered more of the Old Forest Road that day than in a whole week with Dwalin and Kíli. At least, that was what his aching muscles claimed.
By the way of Dwalin, it was him who tried to keep Thorin at a sane pace, unsuccessfully, and now pouted at the edge of the firelight. For once, Bilbo could relate.
"Feels like chasing chicken, huh?"
The hobbit didn't hear Bofur approaching and got startled.
"What?"
The dwarf with the weird hat stuffed his pipe, purposefully, and offered the pipe weed pouch as a token of peace.
"One day ye're coming to a party in Erebor; the next, ye're running after Kíli; before ye can find a hoof print in the right direction, whoops! Go find the lass; but no, wait: let's hunt orcs." Bofur illustrated the change of goals by juggling his pipe from hand to hand. "Pretty wild goose chase!"
Bilbo would find it amusing if it didn't depict exactly how he felt. And not about riding…
"Yeah…" Bilbo sighed, unhappy.
"But then, what would life be if one couldn't look around now and then?"
"What do you mean?"
"Ye see, it's like mining. If ye follow a quartz vein, ye'll get quartz, but when ye blink, whoops! There's copper! And if it weren't good enough, blink again and there is gold!" The miner's eyes shone at the mention of his favorite metal. "And ye know what? Sometimes ye'll find a quartz vein while mining granite, ordinary granite fer building Men's houses."
"And so…?" Bilbo asked, dubious on what in goodness his friend meant with all that ramble.
"Don't ye see the beauty it is? Ye go mining dull granite and end up with gold in yer hands. And the best part, ye still have all the granite, quartz and copper ye mined in the process."
"Fascinating." Said Bilbo, not feeling it.
"Exactly!" Replied Bofur, excited with his own dander. "That's why I wonder, once we put our hands on the filthy orcs, what more will we have gained?"
The hobbit chuckled.
"Not many wounds, I hope."
"Nah, don't worry about wounds. Wounds leave battle scars, and do ye know? Battle scars are badges of honor. Never forget it."
Bofur stretched, emptied the pipe to stow it in his pocket and stood up;
"Well, that was a nice chat, Bilbo old fellow."
"Yeah… I guess…" Mumbled Bilbo, pondering if saying half a dozen words while Bofur talked non-stop should be accounted as a chat.
His eyes wandered from the forest to the camp fire, and to those around it, and his mind wandered too. It was not the same as mining, as actively pursuing a prize, but from the day those dwarves set foot in Bag End and rid his pantry, he had found more and more that he wasn't aware it was possible to be in his life.
First of all, adventure; then, courage; in the heart of the Misty Mountains, a magic ring; at the official end of the journey, richess; more meaningful than any of that, true friendship.
Watching certain sapphire eyes staring at him from across the fire, he was sure he didn't set foot out of his round green door expecting to find it, yet it was undoubtedly there: love.
"I thought the ones on watch should be observant of the forest around us, not of the middle of the camp."
The harsh voice in his ear made Bilbo shudder, coming back to reality.
"Dwalin."
The hobbit turned his attention to the burly dwarf at his side. To punch him would be improper, so he settled for cross his arms and fume at him.
"Unless ye weren't on watch."
"I wasn't." He admitted.
"If so, what worries ye? Ye can't hide the crease on your forehead so easily."
Bilbo considered the warrior, knowing he was much more than the harsh surface he displayed around. After all, he was one who faced Thorin in his gold madness, as more than a subject, but as friend and a brother in arms.
"Have you ever…" Bilbo struggled for an allegory. He found it in food, as a proper hobbit should. "Did you ever have to choose from one dessert or another? Like, you are in a big banquet and you must choose between pudding and blackberries pie?"
Dwalin regarded him with curiosity.
"Maybe."
"What did you do?"
"I took one and then the other."
"But what if you couldn't? What if you had to help yourself of dessert only once and then never more?"
Dwalin smiled at the apparent dilemma, much to Bilbo's distress.
"Then I'd take some of each and be done with it. Who could stop me from having what I wanted?"
"Oh. None, I guess."
"And you?"
"Me, what?"
"What would you do, if you had to… choose desserts?"
Bilbo knew Dwalin was no fool, yet he hoped he didn't see his true dilemma. Actually, he wished someone who understood did see, and helped him out of it. Without breaking any heart.
"I think… I think I'm a hobbit and my tableware isn't fit for fancy desserts. I… I would be content with what fits in my little dessert plate."
Dwalin shook his head, bemused. His eyes wandered to the other side of the camp fire, where people close to his heart chatted lightly.
"Bilbo, Bilbo… No wonder Thorin calls ye a fool now and then. Like when ye gave up yer one-fourteenth share of the treasure and contented yerself with just a pair of chests from it."
"It would be more trouble than profit, really."
He ignored his statement and resumed.
"Yer problem, Bilbo, is that ye don't consider alternatives. Ye like blackberry pie? Great, have it. Yer mouth waters at the thought of pudding? All right, have it too. It's that simple."
"Dwalin, my… my little dessert plate wouldn't hold both at once."
"Nonsense. Ye can always use a larger plate."
"A larger…"
Dwalin's laughed and left for the camp fire, leaving behind a perplexed hobbit. Confusticate and bebother those dwarves!