Short Stories and Drabbles

What Fate Hath Wrought Part Two

Bilbo grimaced as he was forced to sidestep yet another mound of horse dung and wondered again why he'd let Falco convince him to go to Bree.

Footsteps sounded rapidly and Falco burst around the corner, back from retrieving the pony and their wagon. "Hasn't this been exciting, cousin?"

"Not particularly," Bilbo grumbled. He pulled his cloak tighter around his body, easing further under an eave to avoid the rain. The streets were all mud, and other things, currently awash in water. Bilbo was grateful his feet more closely resembled that of a Dwarf and not a Hobbit, at least he got to wear sturdy boots instead of trouncing around barefoot everywhere.

Falco signed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, now, don't be like that! Where's your sense of adventure?"

With my family, Bilbo thought darkly, dead and buried.

He shrugged off Falco's hand and looked out into the street. "Can we go now?"

Falco deflated and Bilbo felt a small sliver of guilt strike him. Bilbo had been perfectly content for the past six years to sit in Bag End, ignoring and being ignored by the rest of the Shire. They thought him odd anyway, half Dwarf and half Hobbit, belonging to both races and neither at the same time.

Then came the knock on the door and Falco's excitement at going on an adventure and Bilbo...had wanted to go. It was the oddest thing, the desire to leave with Falco surging up without explanation or warning. It had brought to mind the memory of his mother telling him of a similar feeling, sending her on a route she'd never taken before for no reason she could explain. It had been the very day she'd met Thrain and, from that point on, she'd delighted in telling him to always follow his instincts.

So Bilbo had obeyed, against his better judgment and, before he knew it, he was packed and ready to go.

He didn't know what he expected to find, only that he hadn't found it and had managed to ruin Falco's trip at the same time.

"I'm sorry," he said, grasping his cousin by the shoulder. "I know you were looking forward to this and I've gone and put a damper on it."

Falco grinned good naturedly, "it's fine, you weren't depressing the ENTIRE time. There was at least a five minute stretch, I'm sure, where you seemed perfectly all right."

Bilbo laughed, even while privately admitting Falco's description was probably fairly apt.

The two finished checking out from the Inn, loaded up the wagon with their purchases and began to head out. The rain, as if realizing they were leaving, increased until it was a near deluge. Bilbo found himself wondering if they wouldn't drown long before they reached the Shire.

The path outside Bree quickly turned to sloppy mud and the wagon began to founder, wheels sinking into the ruts left by countless others.

"Maybe we should go back," he said finally, "before we risk being stranded."

Falco frowned. "I'm not sure we'd make it, we've come to far already."

Bilbo twisted on the bench, looking through the rain in the direction of Bree. He could no longer see any hint of the town but he did see the water running across the trail, collecting in deep pools at various points. Falco was right, they wouldn't make it back.

"Let's get off the road then," he said, "we'll wait it out."

Falco agreed and the two urged the pony and wagon off the road and under a cluster of nearby trees. The ground was firmer there and the foliage overhead blocked out the worst of the rain, if not all of it.