Chapter 2
“Uncle Bilbo? I’m home.”
The last of the plates had just been added to the pile of clean dishes when a sweet, almost forgotten voice floated through the smial, tearing Bilbo’s attention away from his rude guests. Hope swelled in his chest – had his Evelyn finally returned?
“Evelyn?”
Footsteps, the clanging of weapons being removed and the thump of shoes beside the door.
“It’s me, Uncle. I’ve brought a friend with me. I hope that’s alright?”
Bilbo moved towards the voice, turning the corner towards his front door and freezing at the sight that greeted him. His niece had blossomed in her time away. While her frame was still willowy and lithe, her hips had widened, and her bosom had grown. She was a woman now – a very filthy woman. Her face was dirty, and vicious red line ran along her right cheek. She’d been injured, and recently, too. Sapphire eyes regarded him warily, as if unsure of her welcome after having been gone so long. He hurried forward and embraced her, his head resting just under her breasts. She’d gotten taller while she was gone. She was now a good foot taller than him. Slender arms hesitantly wrapped around him, returning the hug.
“I’ve missed you, Uncle.” She breathed into his hair. He squeezed her tighter for a moment before taking a step back and smiling broadly.
“And I you. I hope you found everything you needed?”
She smiled wanly and shook her head.
“Not everything, but it was time to come home.”
A throat cleared behind her and Bilbo noticed his niece’s companion for the first time. A dwarf, with blond hair almost as long as Evelyn’s and his beard as long as Gandalf’s. His right eye was missing, and his left leg was bound and splinted.
“Evelyn, who is this?”
Her smile widened and her eyes filled with fondness.
“This is my friend Frerin, son of Thrain. I found him on my travels, and he decided to join me.”
She introduced the dwarf with a flourish and he bowed in greeting, which Bilbo returned. All three ignored the sounds of shuffling and pounding feet that indicated the approach of the dwarves in the kitchen.
“At your service, Master Baggins.”
Bilbo smiled timidly – he’d had quite enough of dwarves today.
“And I at yours, Master Frerin.”
Before any of them could speak further, Dwalin came barreling into the room, nearly bowling Bilbo over. Evelyn steadied her uncle and frowned at the new arrival, but he was too busy staring at Frerin.
“Frerin?” he asked, croaking. The blond nodded.
“Aye, Dwalin, it’s me.”
The bald dwarf strode forward and grabbed the other by the shoulders, bashing their heads together in greeting before pulling him into his arms in a rough hug. Evelyn cleared her throat.
“Frerin, care to introduce me to your friend?”
Frerin grinned and pried himself from the broader dwarf.
“Evelyn, meet Dwalin, son of Fundin, my cousin. Dwalin, this Evelyn, my traveling companion for the last year.”
The sound of a small stampede proceeded the arrival of several more dwarves. Evelyn looked at her uncle in bewilderment.
“Uncle? Since when do you have dwarves for supper?”
Bilbo’s previous irritation returned. He pointed a finger at Gandalf, who was at the back of the group.
“He invited them. I didn’t know any of them were coming until he,” he pointed at Dwalin now, “arrived at my door.”
The group of dwarves shared looks of astonishment, then shot glares at the wizard.
“And I still don’t know why they’re here!” he added irritably. One of the dwarves opened their mouth, presumably to explain, when a hard knock sounded on the door. Before any of the others could move, Evelyn answered it. On the other side stood a dark haired dwarf who bore a strong resemblance to Frerin. He moved to enter the smial, saying as he did so,
“I lost my way twice. I wouldn’t have found it at all if not for the mark on the door.”
Frowning, Evelyn blocked his entrance, closing the door until it was barely opened.
“And who might you be?” she demanded sharply, warning in her tone. The dwarf scowled at her.
“I am Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain.”
She heard Frerin make a wounded sound, but she didn’t open the door further.
“And who invited you?” she asked curtly. The scowl deepened.
“Gandalf did.”
She arched a brow.
“Well, I’m afraid no Gandalf resides in this smial and as such, I shall have to inquire with the owner if you are welcome.” She replied smartly. She shut the door on his stunned expression and turned to face her uncle, ignoring the scandalized and angry expression of the other dwarves.
“Well, Uncle Bilbo, may the rude dwarf enter?” she asked politely. Bilbo’s expression was a mixture of amused and baffled.
“He may.” He agreed after a moment of deliberation, during which he received a mixture of surprised and hostile looks. Evelyn nodded, shot the other dwarves a dark look, and turned and reopened the door, the dwarf on the other side now looking angry again. She stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter.
“Uncle Bilbo says you may enter. Please remember that you are a guest and mind your manners.” She said in a polite tone. Closing the door, she swept over to her Uncle and kissed his cheek.
“I’m going to take a bath, Uncle, I’m absolutely filthy.” She informed him before sauntering off further in the smial.
~~~~~~~~~~~
She had grabbed one of her old dresses, knowing it would be short, but she would be able to lengthen it with a bit of magic. She quickly made her way to the bathroom and filled the tub with water, heating it with magic. She undressed hurriedly and stepped into the tub and sank gratefully into the hot water. She really was filthy, and she needed to clean out that cut on her cheek. Blasted goblin. Sighing, she began to wash herself, she shouldn’t leave her uncle for long – and she really didn’t like that Thorin’s attitude. That was Frerin’s brother? He was clearly a much different dwarf than her friend remembered, though she supposed time would do that to a person. Time and pain. She wondered what had happened to the kind, loving dwarf her friend remembered to turn him so hard and jaded. The water began to cool, and she sighed again. She had spent enough time cleaning herself. She needed to check on her hobbit and dwarf – and get to know the dwarves she was meant to save. Standing and stepping out of the tub, she vanished the dirty water and grabbed a towel and began rubbing herself dry.
She quickly dressed, surprised at how badly her old dress fit her. It barely brushed her knees and was much too tight in the chest. She carefully channeled her magic to lengthen the dress and expand the bodice. She hadn’t realized how much her body had changed in the last two years. She would wash the breeches and tunic she’d been wearing and let them dry overnight. She left the bathroom with her dirty clothes in tow. She set the washing basin in an empty room and filled it with water, charming her clothes to wash themselves. She would normally do it herself, but she felt tonight she wouldn’t have the time, and she would need them in the morning. That done, she set about finding either dwarf or hobbit. She was walking by the sitting room when she saw two of the dwarves – Thorin and another, unfamiliar dwarf – standing at the end of the hall. She approached them slowly, so as not to disturb them. Their conversation seemed rather intense. She brushed her uncle’s shoulder when he passed her, but he paid her no mind. She paused when she was within earshot of the dwarves, hearing the words,
“Hardly the stuff of legend.”
“There are a few warriors amongst us.”
“Old warriors.”
“I would take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills. For when I called upon them, they answered. Loyalty, honor, a willing heart. I can ask for not more than that.”
As Thorin spoke, the other dwarf looked in her direction. She put a finger to her lips and motioned for him to go back to his conversation. He did so with a distressed look on his face.
“You don’t have to do this. You have a choice. You’ve done honorably by our people. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains. A life of peace and plenty. A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor.”
Thorin’s expression took on a stubborn cast.
“From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me.” He held up an odd-looking key. “They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin, not for me.”
Balin nodded, looking resigned.
“Then we are with you laddie.”
“Is that what your quest is, Mister Oakenshield? Do you chase the dreams of dead men?” Evelyn asked softly when it seemed their conversation was over. The dwarf turned towards her, a scowl on his face.
“What is it to you, girl?”
She arched a brow.
“First of all, my name is Evelyn, you may use it. Secondly – you are Frerin’s brother, are you not?” she asked mildly. He nodded slowly, and she gave a sharp nod in return. “I have been traveling with Frerin for over a year. He has become a dear friend to me. He will follow you on this quest, without doubt or question. I will follow him, and I feel, somehow, my uncle will be involved. I do not know why your company was in my uncle’s home this evening, Mister Oakenshield, nor do I know what my uncle has to do with any of this, but you will have at least two more members of your company come the morning.”
With that, she left, off in search of Frerin. She found him quickly enough, all the dwarves seemed to be congregating by the fireplace. Thorin and the dwarf she assumed to be Balin joined them, and Thorin began humming, a tune that was soon picked up by the others. They began to sing.
“Far over, the Misty Mountains cold
To dungeons deep, and caverns old
We must away
‘Ere break of day
To find our long forgotten gold
The pines were roaring
On the height, the wind were moaning
In the night,
The fire was red, it flaming spread
The trees like torches, blazed with light.”
Emotions she hadn’t felt in an age stirred in her breast as she listened to the song. As the final notes died, one of the dwarves banked the fire and they all readied themselves for bed. They had a long day ahead of them.
The night passed quickly, soon enough , Evelyn was woken by the sounds of rough voices and clumsy movements as the dwarves tried to be quiet. Sighing quietly to herself, she rolled out of her now too-small bed and began to ready herself for the day. She grabbed the clothes she’d set to wash last night and charmed them dry before quickly changing into them. She grabbed her pack from by the door and checked she had everything packed. Then she went to the second pantry and pulled out what she needed to make a quick breakfast. One of the dwarves looked at her in confusion.
“Where’d you find that? I thought we’d emptied the pantry last night.”
“The second pantry, of course. There’s enough for me to make us all a quick breakfast if you’re willing to wait for it. We’ll still be gone before the sun rises fully.” She added when she saw Thorin about to object. He made an exasperated sound when the whole of the Company looked to him for permission.
“Very well, but only if it truly is quick.”
Evelyn beamed at him and set to work, making breakfast rolls with ham, sausage, and eggs and passing them around. She set one aside and wrapped it, putting it in her pack – she had a feeling she would need it later. While the dwarves ate, she also went to her uncle’s study and grabbed a few of his old handkerchiefs, stuffing them into her pack. She had a feeling she would need these as well. Soon enough, they were all ready and headed out the door. She saw Balin leave something on the table, but she didn’t ask what it was. She and Frerin followed the others to the stables near the Green Dragon, where they paused. Thorin had a conflicted look on his face.
“We haven’t ponies for either of you.”
Evelyn chuckled.
“We have our steads, worry not. We just need to get out Hobbiton proper before we can call them. We’ll keep up until we reach the East Farthing Woods, I assure you.” She replied cheerfully. Thorin looked to Frerin, who merely smiled and nodded in response.
“We’ll keep up, brother.” He assured him. Still looking uneasy, Thorin nodded in response and the others mounted their steeds. True to their word, the two were easily able to keep up with the ponies as they walked. Nearly an hour later, they reached the edge of Hobbiton, where Evelyn put her fingers to her lips and let out shrill whistle. A few moments of silence, then the sound of hooves and loud neighing. A few minutes later, a horse and a pony approached them. The horse was a rich mahogany color while the pony was brown with white spots. Evelyn smiled as the horse approached, taking the reins and bridle from her pack and affixing them to her horse, Frerin doing the same to the pony. With that done, she grabbed the horse’s mane and pulled herself up to sit astride it. The saddle was in a bag around her neck with an undetectable expansion charm, but she didn’t feel like wrestling with the bag to get them out at the moment. She smiled at the others.
“We got them in Rohan. They’ll always come when called.” She told them cheerfully. Ignoring their stunned expressions, she turned her horse in the direction they’d been heading and nudged her forward.
The sun was steadily climbing the sky, and the Company was keeping a steady pace as they traveled. They were still within the boundaries of the Shire, but they would be well enough away by midday. They were riding through a grove of trees when they heard shouting. They all turned to see Bilbo running towards them, a long sheaf of parchment trailing behind him.
“Wait! Wait!” he called as he neared them. They paused, waiting for him to catch up. When he did, he was out of breath as he handed the parchment to Balin.
“I signed it.”
Balin took the parchment with a smile, folding it up and putting it in his saddle bag.
“Welcome, Master Baggins, to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.”
Thorin had a bored expression as he drawled out,
“Get him a pony.”
Evelyn watched as her uncle was grabbed by the shoulders and deposited on a pony, all the while protesting that he didn’t need a pony. He settled into a conversation with Gandalf. A few minutes later, he was calling again,
“Wait, wait! We have to go back.”
“Bilbo, what on earth is the matter?”
“I forgot my handkerchief! I have to go back!”
Several of the dwarves started laughing, and the one with the funny hat chucked something at her uncle, which he caught and immediately put in his pocket with a barely concealed expression of disgust. Chuckling lightly, she rode over to her uncle and handed him the handkerchiefs and the roll she’d put aside earlier.
“Here, Uncle, I had a feeling you might need these.”
Bilbo smiled gratefully at her, stuffing the majority of them in a pocket and keeping one out for when his allergies began to act up again. The day wore on and they left the Shire behind. About midday, Evelyn realized that she didn’t know most of their names.
“You know, I only know three of your names.” She said conversationally to the dwarf beside her. He was dark haired, with large blue eyes and a puppy like expression. He smiled at her.
“I’m Kili and this is my brother Fili. That’s Gloin and Oin, they’re brothers too. Dwalin and Balin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur – Bofur and Bombur are brothers and Bifur is their cousin. Nori, Dori, and Ori are all brothers as well, and the wizard is Gandalf.” He pointed to each dwarf he named, and then the wizard. She smiled indulgently at him.
“You must have had to fight to come on this quest.” She said gently. He looked startled for a moment, then he hung his head.
“That obvious, huh? It’s because of my beard, isn’t it?”
She chuckled and shook her head.
“On the contrary. It’s your enthusiasm, actually. That, and you look like Thorin, who keeps looking back here to make sure you and your brother are still with the company.” She added lowly, a conspiratorial tone in her voice. Kili glanced up quickly, looking at their party’s leader, who was, indeed, looking back at them. She smiled when he turned back to her in puzzlement.
“How are you related?” she asked softly.
“He’s our uncle.” He answered, somewhat dejectedly. She raised a brow at him.
“Why does he keep looking back? Does he think we’re halfwits?”
She chuckled, reaching out to grab his pony’s reigns and lead him away from the tree he was about to run into. He flushed a deep red.
“I’m sure he knows you’re halfwits,” she began teasingly, “But he’s likely just worried about you. Uncles tend to do that almost as much as parents do.” She assured him. At that point, Fili – who looked very much like Frerin – jumped in.
“Uncle’s always been overprotective, Kili, you know that.”
Evelyn smiled at the considering expression that crossed his face. He must be fairly young for a dwarf, which made her wonder why Thorin had brought them on this quest. That, however, was none of her business. The rest of her day was spent cheerfully conversing with the two brothers. Eventually, they did stop to make camp on a mountain’s edge. A few of them gathered wood to get a fire going and Bombur set about making them supper, and Evelyn was drawn into a conversation with Gloin, by way of asking about a locket she saw him looking at. She spent the majority of the evening being regaled by stories of his wife and son. She was listening with a faint smile on her face, remembering own children fondly, when they were both brought out of their conversation by the word,
“Orcs?”
The two immediately looked around, searching for an enemy, only to slump back, scowls on their faces as they realized Fili and Kili were merely playing a joke on Bilbo. Thorin berated the pair, and Balin tried to comfort them by telling them why their uncle hated wretched creatures so much. Evelyn watched as the rest of the company – herself included, became engrossed in the tale of the Battle of Azanulbizar. She felt her respect for Thorin grow. To do all that while grieving was a feat in and of itself. She found herself standing with the others when the tail ended and Thorin turned from the cliff’s edge to face them all.
“And the pale Orc?” she heard Bilbo ask, “What happened to him?”
She turned her attention back to Balin. That was a very good question. It was Thorin who answered.
“That filth died of his wounds long ago.”
She caught the uneasy look Balin and Gandalf shared and felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. They weren’t so sure of that. Was Azog still alive? Not long after that everyone readied themselves for bed, Evelyn included. She placed her bedroll next to the rock wall to protect her back and fell into an uneasy slumber.
The next day was heavy rain. It started before the sun rose, waking most of them. They all gathered their supplies and packed quickly. Evelyn took her and Frerin’s saddles out of her bag and saddled their mounts, much to the amazement of the others. She didn’t want to ride bareback on a wet horse, and she doubted Frerin did either. They all mounted their ponies – or horses in her and Gandalf’s case – and set off. By midday, the rain was still pouring, and she heard, Dori, who was a few paces ahead of her, ask loudly,
“Gandalf! Can’t you do anything about this deluge?”
“It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it shall continue raining until the rain is done!” Gandalf replied, “If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard!”
She heard Bilbo say something, but she couldn’t quite make out what over the sound of the rain. Eventually – thankfully – the rain did stop shortly before they made camp. This night, they stopped at the ramshackle remains of an old farmhouse. It gave her a bad feeling. The feeling only grew as Thorin began barking orders to the others, and even further when he began arguing with Gandalf. There was a black pit in her stomach when the wizard stormed off. As Bombur began making supper, she decided to go hunting – might as well top up their supplies while they had the chance. She grabbed her bow and loped off into the nearby forest.
Two rabbits. Two rabbits in the whole woods and that was it. It made her uneasy. She hadn’t even seen a fox or a wolf. Nothing, not predator nor prey. It made her uneasy. She made her way back to camp as the sun fell, and upon getting back, began to clean and gut the rabbits, getting what meat she could from them and giving it to Bombur, who frowned at her.
“So little?”
She shook her head.
“That’s all I could find. In the whole forest there was only two rabbits. I’m worried Gandalf was right – we shouldn’t have stopped here.”
The pair shared a troubled look and went back to their respective tasks. Evelyn took a seat on a log next to Frerin.
“I’ve got a bad feeling.” She told him somberly. He choked on his stew.
“You what?”
She sighed.
“I’ve had a bad feeling since we got here, and it only gets worse with each second that passes.”
A single blue eye widened.
“We have to tell Thorin!”
She shook her head.
“Tell him what? That the little girl is feeling uneasy? He doesn’t know about my feelings, and has no reason to trust them other than your word. We’ll just have to keep an eye out for danger.” She told him firmly. Wearily, her friend nodded his agreement. She groaned loudly when, only a few minutes later, Fili and Kili came running back towards camp and yelled,
“Trolls took the ponies!”