Raven: An Unexpected Adventure

Thirty

Raven

Bag End, Hobbiton

20 January 2959

Raven wouldn't call herself a delinquent. At least, not really. Sure, she'd broken rules before, but she'd always had good reasons. When she tended to her traplines alone she knew Bilba appreciated not having to hunt for their food. When she snuck in to town alone she could justify that they didn't have the time for both her and Bilba to go. When she chased after Bilba, well, what else could she have done? This time though, she wasn't sure about her justification. It was the right thing to do—she knew that, but beyond that justification? Well, things got a bit hazy.

Raven surveyed the room that had become hers in the last couple of weeks. They hadn't been at Bag End for long. Just a matter of weeks really, but she still felt like she was getting ready to leave her home. This isn't home, nor is the smial, not anymore, she reminded herself. No, home would be Erebor. She and Bilba had discussed Thorin's offer—give up his kingdom for them? A mixture of joy and nervousness filled her belly at the thought of his offer. He was king, and he'd fought so hard for Erebor but he would give it all up for them? Raven had always worried that she would disappoint him—now, that fear returned. She knew what life was like when it was just Bilba, Aunt Primula, and her. Now, she knew a little about what life might have been like if she was raised as a proper hobbit. She had no idea what life at Erebor would really be like.

"It's a dangerous business going out your door," she muttered to herself. It was one of her mother's favorite teasing phrases.

"You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to." She looked up to see Dwalin standing in the doorway. "I heard your Amad say that many a time," the warrior smiled affectionately. "It was a mantra of sorts, a promise that if she did succeed in keeping her feet, then everything would be alright."

"Probably, there's little that Ma can't talk herself in to." Raven acknowledged.

"And that, I dare say, is a trait she passed on to you as well." Dwalin noted, and Raven felt her cheeks warm. It was true. She often had to talk herself in to doing something, but once she did then, there was little that could stop her.

"Perhaps," she settled on a shrug.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" Raven glanced around her empty room. They were leaving in the morning. Leaving and never coming back, she reflected morosely.

"I think so," she answered.

"You're worried?" he interpreted.

"No, I mean, I shouldn't be. I know that you'll keep us safe, and the elves are coming as well. So, even though Fíli will leave to find Sórin, we'll never be without an adequate number of guards," Raven reasoned out loud.

"Knowing something and feeling something though, they're different." Dwalin offered gently. "It's a long trip, and it won't be without its dangers. No one would fault you for feeling anxious."

"I'm not anxious," the quickness of her reply no doubt gave her away. At her side, Dwalin chuckled unapologetically.

"Sure you're not," he teased and she glared. "You're worried you'll be lost. You only just got used to this lifestyle and now we're asking you adapt once more. It's a lot to ask of you, and a lot to consider." In spite of his gruffness, Dwalin had a quality that about him that made one want to listen and follow his advice. It was a trait he shared with his brother—and one that, Raven was sure, made Balin such a valuable advisor.

"Alright, fine, pretend you're right, what should I be considering?" Raven asked—emphasizing 'pretend' and knowing she didn't fool Dwalin for a second.