When Billa was young, there was nothing she loved more than spending hot summer days by the Brandywine. Those days have grown hazy in her mind now, almost as if they belonged to some other long forgotten soul, but she has never forgotten the comfort the gentle ebbing of the river brought her on those days.
Even after her parents' death, she would travel out to the Brandywine, sat where they once delighted in picnics and told stories, and listened to the steady stream of water to soothe her grief. She always thought it was a beautiful lullaby.
As she grew older, she would hold onto that sound. When she rejected her first suitor; the first night she slept on the ground in her tiny bedroll surrounded by strange dwarves; as she stumbled through Mirkwood in search of sunlight; later after Thorin's death, she would spend days by the river, seeing if she could push her grief out like a tiny boat caught on a strong current.
Even when her old creaking bones reached Rivendell towards the end, she used to pull out the memory of the sound on late nights in the dark and pretend the current was pulling her away to nicer dreams.
Now, as they make their way down the Anduin, past Rhovanion and then Lórien, and into the Brown Lands, she prays to the Valar that the river is not leading her astray.
'It's too quiet,' Noid murmurs as their little boat bobs along. His face is furrowed with concern, his hand resting on the lip of the boat.
Billa wants to believe he is simply being overly cautious. It's in his nature of course, both as her self-appointed guard and as a dwarf.
She knows he's right though, even in these early times, the lack of orcs and general evil-doers is concerting.
'Did you not say the orcs had set their sights on The Shire?' Gandalf replies.
'Yes, but not all of them,' Noid says, his gaze sweeping the nearest shore. 'It should not be this quiet, unless…'
The dwarf trails off thoughtfully. Billa watches the cogs turn in his mind at a complete loss, and wonders if this is how Frodo felt when Samwise was trying to hold together the seams of their quest and outthink Sméagol.
His gaze snaps up to the riverbend and Gandalf follows his line of sight. The wizard's eyes brighten as he turns to exchange a look with the dwarf, 'We must move.'
Billa blinks at her companions. They move as one, pushing their little boat towards the nearest embankment. The waters fight against their progress, lapping up the sides of the wood, slowing them down.
'What–what is going on?'
'Shush,' Noid places a finger to his lips. His sharp gaze probes the trees standing on either side of the river, his grip on the boat white-knuckled.
'Gandalf–'
'Hush now, old friend,' the wizard interrupts. 'We must be quiet.'
Her neck prickles, the hair standing to attention and she shudders, the heavy weight of some unseen gaze settling on her. She curls into herself, a protective hand resting on her bag, keeping it close.
The sound of the current sings in her ears, less the lullaby from her youth and more a warning hum. Danger, it whispers as it caresses their boat. Be wary, little Hobbit.
There's a dull thud. The boat sinks into the muddy banks of the Anduin, and Gandalf and Noid pop up without a word. Noid reaches back for Billa, pulling her from the bow of the boat onto the embankment.
Gandalf lingers a moment to push the boat back out onto the Anduin, before he too is following them into the trees. The air around them is stale, and a thrill of unease slips through her. How did she fail to notice that the birds are no longer singing?
There's a tremor in her chest, fear pricking at her. Noid squeezes her hand and pulls her into a nearby bush, forcing her low to the ground, out of sight. When she looks up, Gandalf is gone, vanished into thin air. She doesn't have time to ponder the magic, a brutish crack echoes through the woods.
Billa steadies her breath, trying to stop the tremble in her hands. A comforting warmth pushes against her side, but she doesn't dare turn to look at Noid.
It is then she hears it, a sound she has not heard in decades but is undoubtedly burned into her mind. Black speech.
Orcs.
The rough stutters grow louder, footsteps heavy on the earth. Through the gap in the leaves obscuring her vision, she can just about make out the worn boots and gnarled toes in mottled colours. She counts four, maybe five Orcs, conversing in the garbled sounding language. A rotten stench overwhelms her and her stomach roils, forcing a gag into her throat.
It sticks there, the Orcs pausing a few feet away. The mutterings of Black Speech ebb and flow with the current of the river, the words punctuated with irritation and frustration. Her spine stiffens as the reason for the concerned look on Noid's face suddenly clicks into place.
The Orcs are hunting them.
The group lingers, clearly following the trail of the boat as it continues lazily down stream.
Then finally, as her heart thunders loud enough in her chest she's sure they are able to hear it, they disappear. Noid places a firm hand on her shoulder, stopping her from moving as the sound of Orcs fades into the distance.
They wait a few minutes more, until life starts to return to the woods around them; birds sing as they fly past, there's a scuttling overhead that sounds suspiciously like a squirrel. Even then Noid's hand remains on her shoulder.
'Why did it have to be ye, Billa?'
She turns, finally, to face the dwarf. He is still crouched low beside her, his face etched with dark concern, his brow furrowed in such a way that she can't but think of Thorin. Her heart aches.
'Pardon?'
His head swivels, until his gaze is meeting hers. His eyes are sombre, and not in the mildly concerned this-Hobbit-is-batshit-Mahal-save-me-why-am-I-doing-this way it has been for the last several weeks.
'Why did it have to be ye who saves Middle Earth, hm?' He repeats. 'Why couldnae someone else dae it?'
His voice is rough with frustration and fear. It makes her sad, so she takes a few moments to pull together the right words for him.
Finally, she says, 'Because someone had to do it.' The rest remains unsaid. She cannot tell Noid about her vow to protect a fauntling who doesn't even exist yet, nor can she put voice to the horrors she experienced in that other life. He would think her truly mad.
Not only that but she fears that speaking them aloud would make them a reality once more, and the thought is enough to make her tremble right down to her hairy toes.
He must see the turmoil in her eyes, the pain and anguish over the dangers she once witnessed and thrust Frodo into, for he doesn't prod her any further. Simply nods his head and rises to his feet.
She follows suit shortly after, taking one stolen moment to release a soft exhale. Her heart is still galloping loudly in her chest, making it tight and uncomfortable to breathe. Noid gives her a good clap on the back and a hearty smile–even though it does not quite reach his eyes.
'So, what now?'
He shrugs, 'We continue down river and hope to find the wizard on the way.'
'Speaking off, where did Gandalf go?' She surveys their surroundings, but they remain grey wizard-less.
Noid snorts, adjusting the pack on his shoulder and starting to head towards the path, 'Why are ye askin me?'
She grumbles at his question, speeding up to reach his side, 'I thought you saw where he went.'
'I was too busy tryin' tae keep yer head on yer shoulders.' His words are gruff, unusually tense as they meander down the path, following the river's current. Billa shoots him a worried look, gnawing on her thumb.
A silence falls between them, a heavy weighted thing that pushes down on her uncomfortably. Is he unhappy about joining her on this quest? Does he think her as crazy as the Sackville-Bagginses do?
'Noid?'
'Hm?' The dwarf glances at her, pulled from his own quiet ruminations.
'Thank you.'
His brow furrows again, 'Fer what?'
'For keeping me safe.'
Noid huffs and rolls his eyes, 'Dinnae fash yersel, Hobbit.'
She almost stumbles in her haste to reassure him, 'No, I mean it, I really do–'
'For the love of Mahal,' he mutters. He stops, turning to face Billa with a stern look, 'Now I'm only gonnae say this once so listen up. Wherever ye seem to have got this idea yer no worth looking after, ye need to bin it.'
Billa almost rears back in shock, 'Excuse me?'
'I'm no daft. I see ye running after everyone else, worrying and fixin' their problems, with no mind to tend to yer own,' Noid wags a finger at her. 'I'm tellin' ye now, there are folk who care about ye, Billa, who want tae make sure ye stay safe and meet yer goals and yer quest succeeds and I'm one of them. So no more thank ye's, Hobbit. I'm here because I want tae be and because I believe yer worth the risk.'
Noid's face is an impressive shade of red by the time he's finished his rant. It makes her wonder if he's been storing it up for quite some time now.
She sniffles, her eyes feeling suspiciously wet, 'Thank you.'
'Oh fer–' he pulls her into a quick hug, allowing her to bury her face into his shoulder, 'don't cry, lass, Maisy will kill me.'
She allows a little laugh to escape her at the thought.
'Look, all I'm saying is that we care about ye, Billa,' Noid continues. 'So don't get any ideas about no being worth it. The King might have expected ye to run off, but he also expected me to make sure ye remain whole and hale while ye do so.'
'I'm not going to–' she pauses, and pulls back from Noid with a suspicious look, 'What do you mean he expected me to run off?'
'He's not a fool, Billa,' Noid gives her a wry look.
'He told me not to run off.'
'No he didnae,' Noid replies smartly. 'He told ye to be careful and not to follow them.'
Oh. Oh. Now that he mentions it, her friend is right. That is what he said. That cursed dwarf, he knows her better than she knows herself.
She turns startled eyes to the dwarf and starts to wring her hands, 'Do you think he knows?'
Noid bursts out laughing, the sound startling some nearby squirrels and sending them shooting off into neighbouring trees, 'Of course he does! He'll have received word now, especially if he travelled through Rivendell as ye bade him to dae. Dwarves are notorious gossips, ye know.'
Yavanna save her, he is going to kill her.
'It's a good thing I got permission from Bimor, or Thorin would have had me head.' The dwarf shakes his head, starting back on the path.
'Permission?' Billa's nose wrinkles, as she falls into step beside Noid.
'Aye, I needed it.'
'Why?'
Noid squints at her like she's a few sandwiches short of a picnic, 'Ye do know the dwarf's practically adopted ye, aye? Yer like his sister.'
Billa almost chokes on her own oxygen, and gasps. 'Sister?' She wheezes at Noid, who nods.
'Aye, ye just need the braids and its official,' Noid looks particularly gleeful. 'I had tae fight him for it, but I wis happy tae concede cause marrying Maisy makes ye family anyway.'
Oh Yavanna, what has she done?
'Course he wasnae exactly happy about Thorin, but nought much he can do about that,' Noid shrugs. 'It's no like he can complain about his sister becoming Queen.'
'Stop saying that.' She presses cool hands to her flaming cheeks, desperately trying to settle the furious blush lighting up her face.
'Better get used tae it, lass,' Noid grins evilly. 'It's no going anywhere.'
She scowls at him, if that's how he wants to play it, then two can play at this game. 'Aye well, if I need to get used to being called queen, you better get used to having five million dwobbits.'
Noid's spine hardens, and his head turns towards her like a puppet on a string, so stiff she can almost hear the creaking in his neck. A grin blossoms across her face, pure joy warming her as he says almost breathlessly, 'Dwobbits?'
'Baby Dwarf Hobbits,' she says and then nods, 'Dwobbits.'
His eyes are glazed, and he mouths the word to himself. She can see the dream in his mind's eye, Maisy in their smial with an apple crumble in hand and dwobbits running between their legs–it is a dream a small part of her also clings to. What she would give to have her own brood of curly-haired, blue-eyed dwobbits.
Would Thorin even want children? Her brow furrows at the thought, he has Kíli and Fíli after all, would he even want dwobbits of their own? Not that she would be upset if he did not, Kíli, Fíli and Frodo would be more than enough to keep her heart full–not that she would mind trying to make some dwobbits, and from what she's seen from Thorin so far, she doesn't think he would mind so much either–
'Billa?' Noid's hand appears in front of her face and she startles. The dwarf smirks at her, 'Where did ye go?'
'Oh, uh,' that blasted blush creeps over her face again, 'I was thinking about you and Maisy.'
'Uh huh,' he nods as if he knows that's the last thing she was thinking about. Thankfully, he doesn't prod it any further, and turns his eyes to the path ahead of them. 'I think we should probably destroy our evil friend first, before thinking too far into the future.'
'Hm,' Billa acquiesces. Noid is right. First, the Ring, and then, well. She's not really sure what happens after she destroys the Ring, but the thought of the future lies shining before her, a glimmering golden thing that sits just beyond her reach. It gives her hope. Hope for Thorin and hope for Frodo.
'There you are!' Gandalf pops out of the bushes ahead of them, his voice cross and eyes stern, 'What took you so long?'
'I wis making sure there were no Orcs lingering about.'
'Well, you should have done it faster,' Gandalf harrumphs. 'There shall be no lollygagging on this quest.'
He turns abruptly and starts striding down the bank of the river on his impossibly long legs. Noid smirks, and holds out a hand as if to say after you. Billa shakes her head at him and starts after the wizard, putting aside her thoughts on the future for today and instead focusing on the little box burning a hole in the bottom of her bag.