Homeward Bound Part One: An Unexpected Journey

Chapter Eight

Entering through the gates of Bree brought a heavy sense of dread to Bilba, adding to the general feeling of nausea she'd begun to experience some time back.

Her eyes traveled down the dirt streets, past rickety wooden buildings, and toward the gate leading out the other side.

She'd never so much as looked at it the last time and, now, she'd be going through it.

She'd been committed upon leaving the Shire but every step since then had brought a growing sense of uncertainty. It was one thing to decide she wanted to find out what happened to her family, it was another thing entirely to actually set out and do it. Her confidence from her talk with Fram had long since faded, leaving only doubt and fear in its place.

Her family was dead, she knew that. The amount of blood on her clothing testified to that and also to her probably witnessing it.

Did she really WANT to remember that?

She took a deep breath and steeled herself. The not knowing haunted her and subsequently gave her false hope that her family would one day return. It was like a wound that hadn't healed properly. The only way to fix it often was to reopen it, clean it out, and let it heal correctly.

If she ever wanted to move on in her life, and hopefully her future with Fram, she needed to do the same with her past.

They made their way to the Prancing Pony. Before they arrived Gandalf announced he had things to see to and left them. Bilba believed he simply enjoyed being cryptic.

They continued on to the Inn where the rest of the group was, taking up nearly the entire room. Most of them seem startled to see her and she guessed Thorin must have made his position clear before they left.

If there was anything that Dwarf was good at, it was making his position clear.

She started to make her way to a table when the first Dwarf she'd met, Dwalin, loomed up in front of her.

"You able to use that thing?"

He indicated her sword and Bilba absently put a hand on the hilt. "Well enough, though I doubt I'm any expert."

He glowered at her, or maybe that was his normal expression, and stalked off without another word.

Bilba shook her head, and then her attention was caught by a young looking Dwarf, wearing mittens, sitting by himself in a corner. He looked as lost as she felt and she found herself walking to him and sitting down.

"Are all Dwarves so very odd or was it just a prerequisite for joining this group?"

He looked at her in surprise. It made him look even younger and she grew more annoyed at Thorin's claim about HER being too young to go.

"They aren't all so bad," he said quietly. "My brothers are all right."

He indicated two Dwarves, one with a weird, pointy hairstyle and a much older Dwarf. "That's them, Dori and Nori."

Bilba nodded, filing the names away. "And the rest? I know I heard them before but it was a bit chaotic."

Ori grinned. "Just a bit."

He willingly pointed out the rest of the Dwarves to her. There was Balin, the grandfatherly one she remembered, older brother to the scary one, Dwalin. Then there were the brothers Oin and Gloin, then more brothers, Bofur and Bombur and their cousin Bifur who had an axe of all things stuck in his head.

Thorin was talking to Balin and Dwalin. He sent the two off to go ready the ponies they'd be using, then set to getting food laid out for the rest of them, the last decent meal they'd have in an establishment before being reduced to eating on the road.