"They definitely stayed overnight. There are too many piles of warg dung and signs of cooking around the fit pits for them to have just taken a short rest here."

"Looks like they continued t' follow the stream eastwards. Probably so they would have an easily accessible source of water." Feeling a nudge on his arm, he looked over at Lovisa, who signed to him. "And to cover their tracks, says Lovisa."

She continued to sign as he continued to translate. 'I followed the stream about a mile eastward and their tracks disappeared, meaning they started traveling in the water. My guess is they'll be traveling like for as long as their wargs can stand in hopes of disheartening us.'

Rán nodded in understanding, his brows furrowed. "That would have been a good strategy if we did not already know the general area of where these raiders operate from," he said with a small sigh. "When we finished scouring the area, we will continue to follow alongside the river, though until we find their tracks again, we should not drink from it."

Will and Lovisa nodded in understanding. "We'll let the dwarves know," said the former. Setting his hand on Lovisa's shoulder, he gave it a small, but reassuring squeeze as he started to lead her back towards the ponies. "You should try and get some sleep in the saddle when we leave here," he quietly told her. "Now that we know for sure what direction they're heading in, you don't need t' be scoutin' ahead for a while."

Her brow rose slightly as she glanced up at him. 'Even if I were in the comfiest of feather beds, rest is not something that I'll be able to easily come across,' she replied.

"I know, but you have t' try. You've been awake since before dawn yesterday. We've got a long road ahead o' us an' you need t' keep your strength up."

A quiet chuckle left her lips, though it didn't bear much in the way of humor. 'Aren't I supposed to be the one scolding you like this?' she asked, her raised brow indicating she was joking.

"If I were twenty years younger, perhaps," he chuckled.

"Oi!" Dwalin's voice boomed out. Will looked over to see him beckoning them over. "We've found some things!"

The pair, as well as the rangers, hurried over to the group of four dwarves. As they got nearer, Will could see that Dwalin's brows were practically knitted together as he held a leather-bound book while Bofur held something much smaller. What it was, though, he couldn't yet tell. Bifur and Nori both knelt on the ground, their eyes narrowed slightly as they ran their hands through the grass as they carefully inspected it for any more clues.

"Ori's sketchbook," Dwalin stated once they were close. "It's intact, so they had t' have deemed it unimportant enough t' just dump it."

"The three o' them were put here together," Bifur explained.

'How do you know?' Lovisa signed.

"We found some o' Fili's beard beads, as well as Baylee's ear cuff," he answered.

Bofur held his hands out, showing the beads and cuff. "The cuff isn't damaged," he said, which means Baylee must've taken it off herself."

Carefully, Fifika reached over and took the cuff from him, inspecting it closely. "It is undamaged—nothing is bent out of shape."

"She must have left it as a clue for us," Rán stated. Both he and Bofur eyed the cuff as Fifika continued to look it over.

Aizik plucked up one of the beads, their eyes narrowing slightly as they looked it over. "The same can be said for the beads," they stated. "The fact you were able to find them at all and there is no mud on them shows that they were left deliberately."

"The same can't be said for the sketchbook," Dwalin sighed. As he held the book up, it was plain that the raiders had gone through it, as some of the pages were sticking out at odd angles and its ripped cover was coated in what they hoped was just dirt. "They didn't damage it too bad, but there are pages missin' an' lots o' the drawings are smudged."

"That would explain the presence of the paper we found near the latrine pits," Hunil said, shaking his head.

A few curses in Khuzdul came from the dwarves and Lovisa quietly growled under her breath. Dwalin's grip on the book tightened. The five of them knew just how precious that book was to Ori and for it to be desecrated like that…

Fifika handed the cuff back to Bofur, who quickly tucked it into one of the inner pockets of his vest. As she did such, she took note of how Rán's hand twitched slightly when she did such. "At least we know they are safe," she said. "Or rather, relatively safe and have enough wits about them to leave clues such as these."

"We will continue east," Rán told the group, "following alongside the stream. Lovisa has found that they began to travel in the stream itself about a mile from here. As such, be sparing with your water until we find their tracks again, as I am certain they've allowed their wargs to soil the water. We leave in ten minutes."

Over the next three days, two of the raiders' camps and plenty of their rest areas had been found, but no tracks had led away from those spots. No more clues had been left by the captives, but this didn't greatly worry the rescuers, as they knew the raiders had, most likely, stripped them of anything valuable while at the first camp.

On the fourth day, the stream merged with the river, Celduin. But it was at this convergence they found a bit of hope: Tracks running along the river's southern edge.

Their main problem now was finding a spot where both the horses and the ponies could cross safely. The water was on the shallow side—it was barely deep enough to reach the underside of the horses' bellies. But for the ponies, it meant they and their riders would be getting wet, as the water came halfway up their flanks.

Also working against them were the strength of the current and width of the river: It was nearly fifty feet wide.

"Aizik will go first to make sure this area is safe to cross," Rán said as the dwarves' belongings were carefully distributed among the rangers, Will, and Lovisa. "Then the rest of us will go together in pairs. For safety reasons, I would prefer the dwarves to be paired off with someone on a horse, as the horse rider could pull them to safety should anything happen to their pony."

"Should we tie ourselves to one another, just t' be extra safe?" Will asked.

Girish shook his head. "No. If anything happens, it's better to lose one rather than two."

His nose scrunching up slightly at such a thought, Will found himself only able to nod. Mounting his gelding, he brought the horse around to stand in one of two lines; his partner for the crossing would be Nori. Ahead of him, Lovisa and Bifur had paired themselves together while, ahead of them, Fifika and Dwalin were paired up. His brow rose slightly; who was Bofur paired with?

Turning around, he got his answer: At the very end of the lines, Bofur and his pony stood next to Rán. Both males looked equally displeased with the situation and their expressions would have been humorous in lighter times, but at the moment, they worked to only worry Will.

'They've been able to stay civil for this long,' he told himself, turning back around. 'Surely, they both know better than to let their dislike of one another take hold at a time like this…?'

"Nervous 'bout the two o' them being paired together, lad?" He looked down to find Nori staring at the river ahead of them. Aizik was beginning to cautiously walk their horse across; they chose to walk alongside their steed in order to make extra certain that the crossing was safe.

"How did you know?"

"It's my job t' read people, lad." He glanced up at the human, a bit of a knowing smirk on his lips. "I wouldn't worry too much 'bout them, though. Neither o' them are the type t' try an' sabotage another male in a situation like this. Bofur would maybe try at darts or bowling, but not somethin' like this. And Rán's far too honorable t' try anything."

He nodded in understanding, Nori's words easing his worries more than he realized. "That's good t' hear," he sighed, "because we really don't need that sort o' fightin' t' be taking place."

Nori quietly chuckled, the sound not bearing much in the way of humor. "No. We need t' save our energy for when we finally catch up with those raiders."

Bofur shifted slightly in the saddle as he and Rán waited for their turn to cross. The spot had been determined safe enough by Aizik's crossing, though Bofur still felt a bit uncertain. He didn't mind slow-moving water, but ever since he and the rest of Thorin's company had traveled down the Forest River in wine barrels, fast-moving water was not something he enjoyed.

"You seem nervous, Master Bofur," Rán commented.

He glanced up at the half-dwarf as their steeds took a few steps forward; Will and Nori were crossing now, leaving two pairs to go before it was their turn. "Fast water an' dwarves aren't exactly things that get along," he replied simply.

Rán's brow rose slightly at the reply and a hint of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Would you rather cross in an empty wine barrel?" he asked, as if having read his earlier thoughts.

Bofur found himself almost amused by the inquiry. "You've been told 'bout the Company's journey from Mirkwood then, I take it?"

"Yes. Master Ori recounted the tale to us as we traveled to Laketown. I must say, the hobbit's idea was quite an ingenious one."

"Aye, it was…until things went awry."

"Somewhat luckily, there will be no orcs or elves around to attack us as we are making the crossing. Just be sure to keep your pony downriver of my horse and I and all should go well."

Nodding, Bofur looked back at river, watching as the next pair—Kreine and her brother—started to cross. Halfway across, Kreine's gelding slipped and the current nearly pushed his feet out from underneath him. Seth swore and his arm shot out, grabbing the back of his sister's tunic to pull her over, but thankfully, it was unneeded. Her horse was able to steady himself and get back onto all four hooves. The siblings exchanged looks: Seth's one of worry and Kreine's one of reassurance.

Rán let out a sigh of relief.

Girish and Hunil were next; they passed through the river without incident. With no one left, it was now Rán and Bofur's turn to cross. The horse and pony started to walk into the water, Rán making sure Galal walked slow enough to shield Topaz from the brunt of the current.

A shiver ran down Bofur's spine as the water of the river started to climb up his feet and legs, soaking through the cloth and chilling his skin. While part of him was thankful that it was summer and he would soon warm up, another part of him knew he and the other dwarves would be left uncomfortable, riding in their wet clothes for the rest of the day.

Even with Galal acting as a shield, Topaz was still struggling to keep his footing thanks to the force of the current. A concerned frown came to Bofur's lips and, leaning forward slightly, he patted the pony's neck.

"You're doin' well, lad," he said to him. "Just a little ways further an' we'll be out o' the water."

Topaz snorted, but whether it was in agreement or disagreement, he would never know. He didn't understand horses nearly as well as either Baylee or Will.

Suddenly, Galal let out a frightened squeal and reared back, kicking his forelegs out in front of him. Too surprised by Galal's outburst to hold on, Rán let out a yelp as he was thrown off the stallion's back and into the water. Topaz, frightened by what was happening beside him, let out a small scream and started trying to race his way to shore.

Bofur cursed and, before he even realized what he was doing, he had dove from Topaz's back into the water to try and catch up to Rán. In the back of his mind, he told himself he was an idiot: He wasn't the strongest of swimmers and dwarves did not float very well. But as much as he didn't like him, he couldn't let Rán drown—which was exactly what was going to happen from the looks of it, as the half-dwarf was struggling to keep his head above the water.

Thanks to the current of the river, it didn't take long for him to catch up—he had only gone about fifty feet down river, but hadn't moved any further than that.

"My cloak's caught!" he cried out, struggling to try to undo the clasps keeping his cloak in place.

Being too short to reach the river bottom, Bofur had no choice but to grab onto him in order to stay with him. But his added weight dragged them both under. Quickly grabbing onto Rán's arm with one hand, the other took hold of his cloak and yanked on it as hard as he could. The fabric tore under the sudden strain, freeing Rán from whatever had snagged him and sending them both tumbling down the river.

They gasped as they broke the surface, taking in a quick lungful of air before the water could take them back under.

"Kick your feet!" Bofur ordered, keeping his hold on Rán's arm. "Aim yourself towards the shore!" He could hear shouting from the others, but couldn't make out what was being said. When he looked, though, he thought he could see Will riding past. Or maybe it was Hunil? There was too much water in his eyes to tell which blonde it was.

"I'm—I'm trying!"

Together, they struggled towards the shore. The combination of thier weight, the river's depth, and the current, however, worked against them, keeping them from making much progress. They were still nearly fifteen feet from shore and both males could feel the strength starting to drain from their limbs.

Just when Bofur felt his arms and legs were ready to give out, something snatched him by the shoulder of his vest. He could feel himself being dragged towards the shore.

"We've got you!" Will's voice filled Bofur's ears. "Try t' keep your heads up!"

"W-We're trying," Rán gasped. Bofur supposed he, too, was being dragged.

Within just a tense minute or two, the pair had been brought into the shallows, allowing them to stagger onto land, where they collapsed into panting heaps.

Looking up, Bofur saw that it had been both Will and Hunil who had come to their rescue. "Thanks, lads," he wheezed. "N-Not sure how much longer we would've made it." Pulling off his hat—which had miraculous stayed atop his head throughout the whole ordeal—he started to carefully wring it out.

Rán nodded in agreement as he coughed. "A-and thank you t-to you as well, Bofur," he said, looking over at the dwarf. "…I d-don't think I would have li-lived if you hadn't s-saved me."

A tired chuckle left his lips. "Couldn't let you d-drown, lad," he said, lightly nudging him with his elbow. He gave him a wry smile. "We both owe Mannus a black eye, after all."

Rán's brow rose slightly, but he mirrored the expression; he wasn't quite sure why he did it, but he also returned the nudge Bofur had given him, making sure it was done in a friendly manner. "Y-Yes, we do." Glancing past Bofur, he could see the others riding towards them.

"What even happened?" Hunil questioned. He had knelt down and had started inspecting Rán for injuries. "Why did Galal rear back like that?"

"I d-don't know," Rán admitted. "I would have to look him over to see why. I am unhurt, by the way."

"The river is cold and your nerves are still running high; both could easily numb any pain," Hunil retorted, continuing to look him over.

"When Galal reared back, I saw something go flyin' from his leg," Will said. "I don't know what it was, though, since I started t' take off after the two o' you."

Wringing out his braids now, Bofur frowned. "Maybe some sort o' critter bit him?" he suggested. "A river like this might have itself some mighty big crayfish in it."

Hunil and Rán looked at him, confusion on their faces. "What…are crayfish?" Hunil asked.

"They're like lobsters, but a freshwater version," Will explained. "They're usually fairly small, but some can get t' be about half as big as a lobster."

Rán nodded in understanding. "I do not think it was a crayfish, then. A creature that size would not be enough to startle Galal." Gently pushing Hunil away, he moved to stand up.

Bofur stood up as well, wobbling only slightly as he did such. He pulled his hat on and turned around, watching as the others caught up to them. "No one's hurt," he assured them. "Thanks t' Hunil an' Will, we're just a wee bit tired an' cold." Despite this, he could see some of the group quickly dismounting.

Rán nodded in agreement. "Nothing to worry yourselves over." He was glad to see that Fifika held the reins to Galal; he had been worried that his stallion might have bolted after what had transpired. He saw that Topaz, too, had been caught and was now being led by Bifur.

A small, Dorwinish curse left his lips as he was all but tackled by Ashailyn, who had jumped down and ran over to him.

"Are you hurt? How is your breathing? Valar help me, you're freezing!" She pulled back from the embrace and turned his head this way and that, searching it for any wounds before moving on to inspect his limbs.

He let out a laugh, letting her lift his arms and turn him around—whatever she needed to assure herself that he was alive and well. "I am fine, Ashailyn. I promise you, I am fine!"

"The cold could have dulled your senses, both mental and physical," she scolded, earning a snort from Hunil.

"That is what I told him," he chuckled.

While Ashailyn tended to her brother, Bifur quickly hurried over to Bofur. "What were you thinkin', goin' after him like that, lad?! We dwarves aren't made for swimmin' in rivers like that!" he scolded. Despite his words, however, he pulled Bofur to him, hugging him tightly.

"Couldn't let him die," Bofur managed to wheeze out as he felt some cracking and popping along his spine and in his ribs from the strength of the hug. "Bifur…can't…breathe…" He could see Dwalin and Nori making their way over to them.

"Oh, I'm sure you can breathe a mighty bit better with this hug than you could in that water." Bifur loosened his grip and leaned back, holding his younger cousin by the shoulders as he looked him over. He would have continued on with his worried scolding if it hadn't been for Lovisa, who came over and got their attention with a soft bird whistle.

She held something out to Bofur and, upon realizing what it was, Bofur couldn't help but let out a laugh: It was a silver flask.

"You snuck some alcohol with you on this sort o' trip?" he questioned, taking it from her and uncorking it.

'Alcohol has many uses,' she replied, 'aside from loosening lips and inhibitions. Don't take too big of a drink; I would like it to last as long as possible.'

"Aye, that it does," he agreed with a chuckle. "An' no worries. I'll take a dainty wee sip." The sip he took wasn't really the daintiest of sips, but it was small enough—for a dwarf. As small as it was, it did the trick though, and as it rolled down the back of his throat, he felt his body starting to fill with its warmth. "Thank you, Lovisa."

She nodded, taking the flask back before going over to Rán and, knowing he didn't know Iglishmêk, gestured for him to take a small sip as well.

"Are you sure you're alright, laddie?" Dwalin asked, his brows furrowed deeply. "From what we could see, you two went under enough times t' drown a normal person."

He nodded. "Aye, I'm fine. I think I inhaled more water on the Forest River an' I survived that easily enough." He looked down at his soaking wet self and frowned slightly. "Might be a wee bit chilly come nightfall, though."

"Then put on your spare clothes," Nori told him, his brow rising. "Or did you not bring any?"

At that, Bofur shifted slightly. "I'll have you know, I did remember t' pack a spare change o' clothes," he retorted. "But…there are lasses present."

Bifur snorted and rolled his eyes. "We'll form a wall an' tell them t' turn away," he said. "Now go fetch your clothes from whoever's got your stuff—I don't want you gettin' sick from bein' so cold, lad."

While Bofur went looking for his clothes, Will and Rán were knelt down on either side of Galal, inspecting his leg. There was a gash running down along his cannon, though it was thankfully superficial and he didn't seem bothered by it. The jaggedness of the cut, though, told the pair that it hadn't been made by an animal.

"I think, maybe, part o' a submerged branch got him," Will said, leaning back on his haunches. "An' it broke off when he reared back. That could have been what I saw go flying."

Rán nodded in agreement. "That seems to be the most likely answer, as I know of no animals to leave cuts like this," he said. "I am quite glad to see that it's nothing serious. Galal has been my steed for many years and I always feel guilty whenever he does get an injury, no matter how major or minor it is." Standing upright, he stroked the side of the stallion's neck only to be apologetically nuzzled. He murmured to the horse in his native tongue, assuring him that he understood it had all been an accident.

Will smiled at the display of affection between horse and rider only to cock his brow in amusement as Ashailyn came back over, handing something to her brother: A bundle of clothes.

"Change into these before you catch your death of cold," she ordered. "The others have made a changing area for you and Master Bofur." She pointed to a spot where Girish, Nakara, and their horses stood, cloaks hanging down from the saddles to act as a privacy wall.

"I assure you, I am fine in these," Rán replied, his brow raised. "I am already half dry thanks to the sun."

"Ah, I suggest listenin' t' her, Rán," Will told him. "She's your sister—unless you do as she says, she'll just keep badgering you otherwise. An' aye, I speak from years o' experience."

The siblings couldn't help but laugh at his words. "I suppose you are right, Lord Braddock. She is already going to be 'badgering' me, as you say, about getting thrown off my horse anyway…I do not need to hear her telling me of my impending doom from cold," Taking the clothes from Ashailyn, he moved to join Bofur behind the makeshift wall.

As he stepped behind the horse's flank, he was just in time to see Bofur pulling off his shirt, his vest and hat already on the ground. He paused in his steps, unable to stop himself from staring at the dwarf's half-nude form—or, rather, the tattoos covering his arms. Tattoos weren't entirely uncommon to him, as plenty of the people back in Dorwinion had them, but they were nothing like the beautifully intricate geometry that Bofur had.

Not to mention, they helped to accentuate just how nicely muscled his arms were…

He forced himself to look away, thankful that Bofur hadn't seem to notice his presence yet, and cleared his throat to alert the other male of his presence. He hadn't wanted to startle him as he set his clothes on the back of Floren.

Bofur glanced up before chuckling. "Ah, I see you're bein' forced into some dry clothes as well," he stated, dropping the sopping shirt to the ground. "I'm guessin' the work o' your sister?"

He nodded. "Yes. I was going to argue with her, but Lord Braddock reminded me that sisters can be rather relentless when it comes to getting their way." He started to remove his own clothing, starting with the metal-and-leather gorget that marked his position of leader. His leather tunic quickly followed.

Bifur snorted. "Male cousins can be just as bad," he said, undoing his belt and draping it over the back of Nakara's mare before beginning to unlace his trousers. "Especially when they've got your friends backin' them up."

"I have no doubts that, if I hadn't conceded, Fifika and Kreine would have started in on me as well," he chuckled, pulling off his shirt and unlacing his trousers. "They have all but become my sisters by this point, after all. And the others have become like my siblings as well."

"It's good t' have people so close t' you," Bofur said with a nod. "An' it's nice, knowin' folk have your back." He shoved his trousers and undershorts down, kicking them both aside before grabbing his dry undershorts.

"Speaking of which…Thank you again for saving me." He pushed down his own trousers and undershorts, before grabbing his dry ones. "I know we have not…exactly been on the friendliest of terms due to our rivalry, but—"

"I wasn't 'bout t' let you drown, Rán," Bofur interjected, his brow raised as he glanced over at the half-dwarf. He hated to admit it, but with the sunlight glistening off his damp, tanned skin and his auburn locks, he could see why most of the females swooned at the sight of him. But he shoved those thoughts aside. "Even if I despised your guts—which I don't, mind you. You're actually a rather likable bloke, all things considering—I wouldn't have let you drown. Now, if you had been an awful person, then it'd be a different story. But you're not. You're a good person—you have t' be for Baylee t' consider you such a good friend."

Rán's brow rose somewhat as he pulled his trousers on over his undershorts; the dwarves sometimes spoke in a fashion that made it hard for him to understand them and this was one of those times. However, from how Bofur had ended his ramble by saying that he was a good person and that Baylee considered him a good friend, he ascertained that, over all, he had spoken well of him.

"Thank you," he said, giving Bofur a small nod of appreciation. "And I apologize if I offended you. I had meant no insult when I brought up the lack of friendship between us," he explained. "You see, most of the romantic rivalries I have seen throughout my life have ended in tragedy, mostly by way of one rival taking the other's life or otherwise ruining in some fashion. Rarely have I seen the rivalries come to an end in a peaceful—or even friendly—manner."

Bofur nodded slowly in understanding as he laced his trousers up. "I have t' admit, the same goes for me," he said. "I'm not sure how much you know 'bout dwarven culture, but when two dwarves are wantin' the same person, there's almost always bloodshed o' some sort."

A frown came to Rán's lips. "Why is that?"

He cocked his head. "You…don't know?"

"I'm afraid my mother passed before she could teach me much about dwarven culture. Braiding love-knots into your lover's hair was one of the few things she did manage to teach me, as I caught her braiding some into my father's hair." Grabbing his shirt, he shook it out a few times to remove some wrinkles from it.

A pitying look came to Bofur's face, but he nodded in understanding once more. "Well, Mahal—Aulë, t' those who aren't aware o' his Khuzdul name—made us dwarrows t' be passionate about the things in life we love the most. Whether it's our craft, our food, or our loved ones, we'll do whatever it takes t' keep them safe from threats. An' when it comes t' our lovers—or those we hope t' be our lovers—we get even more protective. Because most dwarves only get one chance t' fall in love; we call those lovers our 'Ones', since they're our one an' only. An' when we fall, we fall hard, as I'm sure you've noticed." As he spoke, he pulled on his own shirt, as well as his vest.

"But why did you say most dwarves—er, dwarrows?—only get one chance? Are there some who never get the chance to have a…a One, as you called it?"

"Aye an' no. 'Dwarrow' is what we call ourselves, by the way, though we do also call ourselves dwarves." He grabbed his outer belt and wrapped it around his torso. "An' aye because some dwarrows fall in love with their craft and never take on a lover—which is perfectly fine. Sometimes, a person's greatest love is their craft, after all. But also no, because sometimes, our Ones die early an' they never love again."

He exhaled a heavy sigh as he thought back to the days when he thought Kaia would be his only chance at love. How he had felt like he had lost everything when she died. How the light inside of him that had been extinguished with her death had relit itself when he met Baylee.

"Sometimes…" he continued, voice a bit softer now. "Sometimes, though, Mahal sees fit t' allow a dwarrow t' love again. We call those Second Chances." He rubbed the side of his neck, looking away almost guiltily as he remembered how there was the possibility that Baylee might've been Rán's One. "…Baylee's my Second Chance."

Rán was silent as he absorbed this information and, when Bofur glanced over at him, he saw a surprisingly intense look of concentration on his features. "Thank you, Master Bofur," he finally said after a couple minutes of silence passed, "for educating me on such matters." Looking over at the dwarf, he gave him a rather friendly smile; once again, Bofur found himself admitting that he could see why the lasses back at the Tankard swooned over him. "It is good to learn about part of my heritage that my mother was unable to tell me."

He returned the smile, feeling some relief that the intense look had gone away. "It's no trouble, lad," he said. "Perhaps when this whole mess is over, me an' the lads could teach you more about dwarven culture—at least, the culture we know."

Putting his gorget back on, Rán chuckled. "…I think I would very much like that, actually."

A/N: Um. Hi there. Long time no post. Sorry about that year-and-nine-day delay. Had a bit of burnout that I'm, admittedly, still not fully recovered from, but I needed a distraction from the political shitshow that just took place. Another part of the 'delay' is that I've been fighting between keeping the story as an otp or changing it to an ot3, since I've grown to really dislike most love triangles. So, with that said...this story is no longer going to be Bofur/Baylee. It's going to be Bofur/Baylee/Ran. After getting kidnapped by Mannus and all that entails, I think Baylee deserves cuddles from both Bofur and him.