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TA 2941, Forelithe 14th

XXI. 

The day ahead promised to be long. Thorin was the first to rise among the Dwarves. With no remorse, he kicked his kin awake, “Up, all of you,” Thorin urged, rousing his nephews first, “We must leave. Now.” 

“Oh, off it, Uncle,” Kíli grumbled, wincing at the sharp pain in his side as he swatted Thorin’s boot away. The Company stirred to life, slowly shaking off their sleep. Even Bilbo rose, eyes fluttering and stifling a small yawn.

You were lucky and woke to a more gentle stir, a soft shake of your arm. As your eyes adjusted, Kíli’s silhouette sharpened into view, “I’d suggest you wake up, milady. Thorin's doing his rounds, in his own sick way.” He muttered, smirking. 

“What?” You stretched, pushing back your hair and sitting up on your arms. 

“Brutal, but better him than Dwalin,” Fíli’s voice chimed, as he emerged from behind Kíli’s bed roll, “I still have a bone to crack from him somewhere, he did a number on my neck last week,” He tensed his arms and wound them back before an audible crack was heard, “Ah, there it is.”

You noticed the other Dwarves moving quietly, packing their belongings, sheathing their swords, and rolling up their cots. Near the doorway, Thorin and Balin were in deep conversation, Thorin’s face set in a grim scowl as he nodded along to his older kin’s words. 

Then, he locked eyes with you. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away. You hadn’t found the chance to talk to him about the other night. Had he forgotten? Or was it too awkward for him to bring up? Either way, he hadn’t spoken much to you since. But, maybe it was better that way. Maybe he had forgotten. Yet the tension remained. You certainly hadn’t.

All of these thoughts brought you back to Gwirithiel, making you regret not saying goodbye to her as well. 

“Milady, catch!” Fíli’s voice cut through, and your pack landed in your lap, jolting you from your reverie, “Gather your things. Brother, you too,” Fíli said with a wink, already rolling up his cot.

The other Dwarves’ hushed murmurs filled the silence as they followed Thorin, who stomped out the smoldering remains of the fire.

You rushed to roll up your cot, hastily grabbing the scattered items around your legs and stuffing only the essentials into your bag. With little time to spare, you buckled the straps and hoisted the pack onto your shoulder, determined to not be left behind. 

The halls were unusually quiet as you crossed the long bridge through the courtyard. Not an Elf in sight, but only the calming sound of the waterfall was present.

The marbled path soon vanished beneath your feet, replaced by the uneven rise of stone and dirt. The company’s pace slowed as the terrain became more challenging. Dori, struggling to keep up, spoke up, pausing to catch his breath, 'Which way are we going, lad?' he asked Thorin.

“We’ll take this path through the valley, before reaching the Mountain Pass,” Thorin answered, pressing forward without looking back as he stepped back onto the uneven, rocky terrain.

“And what about Gandalf?” Ori asked 

“We will see the Wizard later. If he even meets us there,” Thorin said using his stick to continue his hike, "Be on your guard. We're about to step over the edge of the wild." Those were his final words before he rounded the corner to a cave for the rest of the hike. 

You found your stride as you reached the peak of the hill, but a faint sound reached your ears carried by a cold breeze that tickled the nape of your neck and made you pause. The Dwarves passed by one by one, and you lingered, turning for one last look at Rivendell.

The feeling was eerie, and you brushed it off quickly to press forward again but jumped in surprise when you found Bilbo standing in front of you, nearly bumping into him. 

“Bilbo!” You exclaimed, “You really need to stop that.” 

The quiet burglar chuckled, scratching the back of his head, “Ah, sorry! I was calling your name, but you didn’t seem to hear me, ha.” He stood for a moment, twiddling his thumbs before catching himself and stopping, a nervous habit of his. 

There was a pause before you continued, “What’s wrong?” 

“Ah, here,” he said, pulling something from behind his back and extending his arm toward you. “You forgot this. W-wouldn’t want to leave it behind, would you?” He laughed again, a touch more awkwardly this time.

“Oh.” Your eyes widened, and you patted your waist where the weapon should have been. “Thank you, Bilbo.” You took it from him gratefully and secured it at your side.

As you secured the weapon at your waist, Kíli caught your eye from ahead, a half-smile playing at his lips before he turned back to the path with Bofur. 

“My pleasure,” Bilbo shifted nervously, rocking on his heels, “Well then– after you.” Ever the gentleman, he gestured for you to lead the way. Chuckling, you give his shoulder a firm pat as you passed, ascending the rock stairs. 

The Company huffed and grunted as they made their way over the terrain, careful to avoid the edge where the river roared below. Now free from Rivendell’s halls, the Dwarves’ chatter grew louder, free to talk about whatever they wanted with no care of any Elfs brooding over them with every conversation. 

You and Bilbo brought up the rear of the group. As you walked, the two of you chatted, with Bilbo sharing stories of his quiet life back in the Shire. He talked about his few friends and family, and how he planned to write a book about all his adventures once he got home. You laughed at his jokes, amused by his silly, carefree life.

His eyes twinkled, and a wide grin spread across his face, "I do miss Bag End," He admitted his voice warm, looking ahead with nostalgia, “Though not as much as I don’t miss my neighbor, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, that is. Last spring, she decided that her rose bushes would grow better if she 'borrowed' my garden soil." 

You chuckled, "She didn’t actually dig up your garden, did she?"

The Hobbit nodded so quickly it looked like his head might fall off, “Oh, she did! Right in the dead of night! I woke up to find half my marigolds leaning sideways, looking as confused as I was! Would you believe it?”

“She sounds jealous, Bilbo. Your garden is beautiful.”

“She most definitely is, no doubt about it. Every morning since, she walks past my garden, eyeing it like it’s her second breakfast!” Bilbo laughed, taking a puff from his lit pipe, the smoke trailing behind him with each step, “I w-want to add more. I think it needs more trees too. Oh! Maybe some Snapdragons for next winter—they’d fit perfectly after this, and they're a bold statement piece I think.” You’d never heard anyone so enthused about their garden before. You found it rather cute.

As Bilbo's words drifted around you, Kíli’s earlier glance came back to mind. There was something in his eyes that you couldn't quite place.

 “Do you really think Gandalf will come?” Bilbo asked solemnly, bringing you back from your thoughts. He clutched his pack tighter, stepping over a fallen log.

Before you could answer, Bali, chimed, “Yes, laddie, Gandalf promised to meet us at the Mountain Pass...”

The day stretched on, the sun casting harsh light over the path. The sounds of nature were replaced with an occasional grunt or sigh from the company as they navigated steep inclines and treacherous drops.

Eventually, the jagged walls of the valley fell behind you, giving way to an open field. The sight of the pasture was a relief: a lush expanse of wild grass and a thin, sparkling river that traced a path back toward the canyon below. A collective sigh of relief passed through the group.

“We camp here tonight.” Thorin declared his voice firm as he surveyed the area.

Bombur began unpacking his supplies, the clinking of pots and pans echoing through the clearing, while others gathered firewood or prepared their bedrolls.

Even with Bilbo nearby, you felt a bit lonely without your other half by your side, as if a piece of you was missing. You wondered what Joseph was doing right now. Hopefully, he missed you—that would be a comforting thought—or maybe he was listening to an Elven tale. Who could know?

You set up your bedroll next to the river, its running water a soothing white noise that dulled your brooding thoughts. As everyone settled in for the night, another bedroll was tossed down next to you.

A soft thud beside you broke your reverie. You turned, surprised, “Kíli?”

He responded with your name and a smile, his eyes sincere, “Mind if I sit?”

The young princeling bit his cheek, chewing on the corner of his lip as if holding back a grin. He didn’t look at you, instead drawing small lines in the dirt with a stick. “Sitting,” He shrugged. “Is that alright?”

Kíli glanced up at his brother, who was barely holding back a laugh. From his bedroll, Fíli’s chest shook silently, and he rolled over to face the other side, unable to look at his brother anymore.

“Can I ask you something?”

Kíli’s question was tentative, and your brows furrowed as you leaned back slightly. A silence hung in the air, and he took that to continue.

He stumbled over his words at first, starting and stopping before finally managing, “How are you?” Was that all he wanted to ask? 

At first, it was small—a tiny pit forming in your stomach, accompanied by a flutter you couldn’t quite name, but this feeling has recently been happening far too often. A few dozen or so thoughts ran through your head and yet, you couldn’t find anything to say.

“I’m okay.” 

“Good,” He said quickly, “I mean– it’s good you're alright.” 

Kíli glanced around, noting that everyone else had drifted into slumber. He looked back at you as you ran your hand through your disheveled hair, resting it on your neck while you stretched and watched the fire crackle, avoiding his gaze. 

Then, without a word, his eyes flicked briefly to your hair. For a second, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on the way your hair fell loose and tangled. His fingers twitched, as though wanting to do something, but he looked away before you could catch it. You noticed this out of the corner of your eye, but said nothing.

A pause settled between you, and then his voice broke the silence again.

“May I?” He asked quietly, his voice barely a whisper. 

You turned to find him looking at you with soft eyes. “May you what?”

He asked you to turn around, spinning his finger. You did as you told, giving him a confused glare, and shuffled around the other way. 

A sudden jolt ran through you when you felt him gently pat down your head. He was careful, his fingers barely grazing your skin as he raked through your hair, brushing it out with surprising thoroughness.

You didn’t feel brave enough to ask what he was doing, so you let him take his time combing through your locks. It felt comforting, and you weren’t going to say anything about it.

You weren’t sure how long the silence lasted between you. 

With your shoulders slumping, relaxing under his touch, you felt him gather a small section of your hair and twist it at the base of your neck, tucking it under the rest of your locks behind your ear. Kíli continued, twisting and weaving a tiny, almost unnoticeable plait. His fingers brushed softly against your skin, moving carefully, almost afraid you would flinch away. 

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