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Chapter Text

The ground beneath Hyacinth's feet is hard and dry. Too dry. It's not quite a full blown drought yet, but it's certainly heading towards one. And there's plenty of signs that this pattern won't drastically change throughout the summer. That's why she's on this road heading up to Bag End to have tea with Mister Baggins and discuss a clause in her family's contract for the land they rent from him. It's an old one that's relevant every so often. The Baggins family never gives their family any issues when they decide to call upon it, but either way, a discussion must be had, and it always is a long one. She will be spending many evenings up here over the next few months. When she's just outside his gate she looks up at the sky and quickly realizes it is much too late for tea, the sun is a few moments away from disappearing behind the hills entirely. Mister Baggins will likely be scrambling to put together a supper for two once she knocks on the door. It doesn't matter, though. She walks up to the door and knocks sharply, just as her mother taught her.

Faintly she can hear Mister Baggins calling out slightly aggravated, "Coming, I'm coming!" and his pattering footsteps quickly approaching the door. She brushes her hands on her skirt just as the door swings open. "Oh, Hyacinth! I hadn't been expecting you," he exclaims while tightly tying his patchwork robe closed, "Come in, come in! I was just getting ready to start on supper." In the time it takes for her to close his large door behind her he's disappeared somewhere off into the smial. She's been here enough times to know where a few rooms are so she easily finds her way into the dining room to sit. He appears shortly after and asks, "Fish is alright, yes?"

She shoots him a polite smile, "Yes, of course." He disappears into the kitchen for a minute, clattering and clanking about. When the sounds cease he takes a seat at the table with her. He, at some point, had managed to change back into more appropriate clothes. When is beyond her.

"I assume you are here on business, Hyacinth. Let it wait until we are eating. Besides, the fish shouldn't take too long. Would you like tea?"

"Tea would be lovely. Thank you, Mister Baggins."

He hops back up and disappears off into the kitchen again. She can hear him muttering as he goes but chooses to ignore it. Once the tea she is handed is nearly halfway gone there is a plate of fish set in front of her. It really does smell wonderful. As soon as Mister Baggins' is sat in his chair she takes her first bite. It's certainly delicious.

"So, Hyacinth, what brings you here toni-" Mister Baggins begins, but is quickly cut off by a heavy knock on the door. His eyebrows furrow together and he huffs a little as he stands, "Would you please excuse me for a moment?"

She leans to try and look around the corner to see who is at the door but her view is quite blocked. The door squeaks open, Mister Baggins' really should oil those hinges, and there's a moment of silence. Then, a deep, gruff voice she doesn't recognize says, "Dwalin, at your service." What an odd name that is, Dwalin. She misses Bilbo's response while pondering the new voice, but she doesn't miss as this mystery person calls out, "Which way, laddie? Is it down here?"

"Is what down where?" Mister Baggins stutters out.

"Supper. He said there'd be food, and lots of it."

He said? Hyacinth certainly wants to find out who said that. Bilbo echoes her thoughts out loud, "He said? Who said?" And at that moment a dwarf appears in the dining room.

He stops short for just a moment before continuing to sit in Bilbo's seat, "He said nothing of a lady."

"My name is Hyacinth." He doesn't acknowledge her indignant introduction, he simply digs into Mister Baggins' plate of food. The other hobbit is in the doorway watching, an appalled and confused look painted across his face. Hyacinth wouldn't be surprised if she looked much the same as she hesitantly kept eating her own food. In just a few bites the dwarf, Dwalin, clears the entire plate.

He looks up at the two hobbits, his eyes jumping between them, and says, "Very good this," there's still food in his mouth. Once he swallows he asks, "Is there anymore?"Bilbo stutters and hums out several affirmatives while he disappears into the kitchen. He comes out with a plateful of biscuits and hands them over to Dwalin.

"It's just that, uh, I wasn't expecting any company. Anymore company! Um-" Once again Mister Baggins is cut off by a knock at his door. This one is far more polite, sharp and quick. Possibly whatever poor soul managed to send a dwarf to a house in The Shire. And not just any house, Bag End of all places!

"That'll be the door," Dwalin says. Quite rudely, Hyacinth might add. Mister Baggins scurries to the door and pulls it open.

A much higher, and far more kindly, voice that she doesn't know says, "Balin, at your service." Yet another odd name! She wonders if this is another dwarf.

"Good evening," the flat devastation in Bilbo's voice all but confirms her theory as she continues to listen in.

There's a moments pause, like a little breath, and then, "Yes. Yes it is. Although, I think it might rain later. Am I late?"

"Late for what?" Bilbo once again voices her own thoughts. This new dwarf finally rounds the corner and into sight. He loudly exclaims in what seems like excitement making her jump and look back at the first dwarf, who apparently got his hand stuck in the cookie jar.

The other dwarf, Balin, who looks much older than the first, is laughing a little bit as he approaches, "Evening brother." Brother? Is that why their names are so similar?

Dwalin sets the cookie jar down, and apparently his hand wasn't stuck in it, "Oh, by my beard. You are shorter and wider than last we met." She can hear a smile in his voice, although the beard really does make it tricky to see.

"Wider, not shorter. Sharp enough for both of us," Balin responds playfully before the two of them smash their heads together so hard she worries the one or both may end up with a concussion. Right after that whole scene this new dwarf seems to notice her still sitting at the table. A momentary look of shock crosses his face, but he quickly schools it back into a kind smile. He dips into a bow and introduces himself directly to her.

In an effort to match his sensibilities she dips her head to him and says, "Hyacinth Brown." He smiles at her briefly before turning to mutter with Dwalin. She only catches the words "didn't mention" and "lassie", which is more than enough to know they're talking about her. Well, it seems Mister Baggins is to be overrun by dwarves tonight and he certainly seems as shocked and confused as she feels. She takes the last bite of her supper and collects the plates that were left on the table. She brings them into the kitchen and sets them in the sink. It's the least she can do. The sound of everyone's voices seems to be coming from one of the pantries. She decides it's probably best for her to stay out from underfoot, so she returns to the dining room and her seat. It's not yet late enough, or overrun enough with dwarves, for her to leave without discussing the reason she came in the first place.

The two dwarves reappear, arms laden with Mister Baggins' food, and the hobbit himself trailing after them. They dump their food at the end of the table despite his protests, which are quickly drowned out by a loud clamour at the door and an even louder knock. She stands quickly, chair loudly scraping against the floor, and the sound pauses Bilbo in his aggravated tracks. He looks torn between attending his current guests, and answering the door.

"Let me," she says quickly. Without waiting for an answer she heads off to the front door and pulls it open. Two fairly young looking dwarves stand on the doorstep. In an instant they are rattling off their names and bowing at her. She isn't sure which is which.

"You must be Mister Bog-" the brunette starts to say before the blonde elbows him in the side.

"That's no Mister, Kíli, that's a lady!"

"Oh, right." The two stare dumbly at her and don't move from their place on the doorstep.

She huffs and crosses her arms, "Well, are you coming inside? Soon enough all of the bugs will have come in and we'll need to turn into frogs to get them out."

The brunette, Kíli, stares at her with an open mouth, "Is that something you can do?"

"No! And that's why you need to either come in or leave." In an instant the two are rushing inside and setting their things to the side. Dwalin is quick to put them to work finding even more chairs for what's looking to be quite a large company. Just as she's turned around and attempting to dodge her way around dwarves and an upset Mister Baggins she hears a commotion on the doorstep. It sounds a bit like an argument, although not so upset as to make her worry. She turns on her heel and heads back to the door and the moment someone finally bothers to knocks she rips the door open. It's a near miss, but she manages to dodge the pile of dwarves that tumble through the doorway.

"Bilbo Baggins!" A booming voice begins, and quickly cuts itself off when an old man's head bends down far enough to peer inside. "You aren't Bilbo," he states in confusion.

"No, I am not. And I'm most certainly not a Baggins, either," she huffs.

"No, no you are not," he muses while the dwarves at their feet right themselves with much grumbling. As they stand up they introduce themselves to her quick and polite, although all of them seem rather confused about who she is. They all seem far less confused about who Mister Baggins is when they find him scurrying around his own home like a chicken with its head cut off.

It's chaos throughout supper, the dwarves successfully playing keep away with all of Mister Baggins' food and not leaving a crumb behind. Gandalf the Wizard pulls Mister Baggins aside twice to ask why she is here, and does not seem to like his answer of "I haven't found out yet!" either time. Mister Baggins, although quite an unwilling host at this point, at least has to be gracious towards his one hobbit guest, so he gives her the last empty chair despite her insistence he sit himself. Once the food is finished they sing a song mocking Mister Baggins while cleaning up in the most gut wrenching of ways. Really, does no one in their party understand basic manners? There's a loud banging on the front door that has Gandalf ominously announcing "he's here" to the gathered people. She follows the crowd to the door and stands near Ori while the Wizard opens the door.

She does not much care for this Thorin Oakenshield. He may be their king, but he isn't hers. And he's rude, ruder than anyone else has been tonight. A grocer is not a bad thing to be, so why he said it like an insult is beyond her. They congregate back around the table, and she sits down by the apparently prince's. All this talk of taking back a mountain and treasures is beyond her. What she needs to talk about is what her family is to do if the crops don't produce nearly as much as normal come harvest time. She mostly zones out listening to them waffle between each other, it's not as if any of them other than Gandalf have sent her so much as a second glance.

The wizard draws her attention back to the present as the shadows around him darken and his voice seems to bounce off the walls. What a show of why he's called a wizard. When the contract is passed over to Mister Baggins she finally realizes what is going on. Gandalf has volunteered Bilbo to go on a dangerous quest for riches. As if the Baggins family needs any more riches. Bofur keeps talking and talking about how a dragon will kill you until Mister Baggins keels over and faints. Gandalf carries him off into the sitting room and the table erupts into a quiet argument.

"If he faints like that just hearing about danger, imagine what he'll do when he's actually in danger," points out Oin.

"But Tharkûn says-" Ori tries to say.

Dori cuts in immediately, "Tharkûn is wrong."

"Without him we do not have a burglar," Balin pipes up. A burglar? How hard could it be to be a burglar? Besides she's always wanted to go off like a Took, adventures seem rather fun.

Dwalin snorts, "We have Nori." Besides, there's riches to be gained. Her family could use those riches, maybe they could even finally buy their own land rather than keep renting from the Baggins'.

"Nori is a thief, not a burglar!" Ori is quick to jump to his brothers defense.

Nori leans conspiratorially over towards Ori and says, "Not sure that matters much to him."

Hyacinth stands up quick as a hare with a loud noise, "I'll be your burglar." The room around her goes dead silent. Even after several moments none of the dwarves have said a word, so she begins to speak again, "Mister Baggins was chosen because he is a hobbit, not because of any tremendous skill he has. I am a hobbit, and while I do not have a tremendous skill to offer in his stead, I have skill enough."

Finally, Balin breaks the silence, "Do you have any experience, lassie?"

She hesitates, "No, but neither does he." The dwarves all turn to mutter amongst themselves, and she does not catch most of it. Thorin finally returns to the table from his discussion with Gandalf. Bilbo is still resolute in his desire not to come, even if Gandalf insists he will change his mind eventually. Balin leans over to his king and she catches just enough of what he's saying to know without a doubt that he's telling him about her volunteering. The way their eyes linger on her now almost makes her regret her impulsive decision, but the draw of her family owning their own land is enough for her to push the doubt down.

"You have volunteered, why?" Thorin's deep voice is unimpressed. She gets the feeling the truth would not be appreciated here, but what would?

"You need a burglar, and you aren't likely to find one anywhere in The Shire. See, it's not a crime we have," she stalls while she thinks, "But it's one I'm sure I can manage. You have a need, I have a way. Why would I sit back and not volunteer?"

"Fine. Balin, edit the contract. I have much to discuss with Miss Hyacinth." Balin pulls a quill out of somewhere and Ori is sliding an inkwell down the table towards him. Thorin's eyes bore into her own, "If you sign that contract, you may join us as our burglar. That being said, you cannot wear those frivolous skirts on the road. They will only get in the way and-"

"I beg your pardon, Mister Oakenshield," she tries at formality to ease his opinion of her, "but my skirts will not get in the way. I am a farmer first and foremost, I can do a great deal in these skirts." She's not sure whether or not she's successfully kept the glare from her face. Assuming she can not do hard work because of her skirts. Has he never met a working class woman in his life?

Mister Baggins finally decides to reappear, leaning in the doorway of the room. He says, "Now, now, Hyacinth. I can lend you some of my pants and shirts, you know I have plenty. You'll be much safer on the road that way," and it's clear that he's just trying to calm her down. She wants to huff and puff at them both, but instead nods and sits back in her seat.

Balin finishes with the contract, although she really isn't sure what could have needed to be changed if they had written a halfway decent contract, and the dwarves are quick to pass it down the table to her. They set it in front of her, and she is forced to look up at them and say, "I cannot read it." The awful silence that happened when she volunteered returns.

It's Kíli who breaks it, "You cannot read it?" His voice is quiet, confusion and a hint of shock clear as day.

"Is it the handwriting? I'm sure Bilbo would be happy to copy it for you," Ori tries.

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Her heart is racing. Finally, she says, "I cannot read, at all." The silence is even thicker now. It takes longer for any of them to break it.

It's Fíli who does so this time, "You cannot read?"

Dori adds in, "At all?"

It swells up so fast inside her, "I am a farmer, what use do I have in reading?"

Balin is at her side, she doesn't know when he got there, but his hand is heavy on her shoulder. "Peace, I'll read it to you. Fíli here can confirm that I have not altered any of the wording if you are worried." So together the two of them make sure she understands her contract, going through it slow and clear. It takes far too long, the others evacuating the table shortly after they begin. She signs it with no issues, although the numerous ways she could die does have her worried all over again.

The next issue comes when they've finished. Thorin and Dwalin are sat by the front door, arms crossed, talking quietly to each other. When she attempts to leave, just to go inform her family of her new plans, they stop her.

"You would try and run away already?" Thorin asks.

"Run away? No. You would stop me from saying goodbye to my family?" Hyacinth slings back. Dwalin is side-eyeing Thorin, ready to back up whatever decision he makes.

It takes a tense moment, but the King relents, "Fine. But I expect you back tonight." She sets off at a brisk pace into the cool night air as soon as he moves out of her way.

It is really quite late when she treks back to Bag End. Most of the dwarves inside are asleep, snoring obnoxiously. Thorin waits up for her, and so does Bilbo. When she slips back into the house Thorin nods at her from the chair he is sitting on and quietly says, "You are to sleep in here with us. Master Baggins has something he needs you for first, though. Goodnight." He stands up and tiptoes over to his nephews and lays down beside them. She walks down the hallway until she finds Mister Baggins. Beside him there's a pack, clearly full and with a bedroll attached. On top of it is an outfit, one that would be appropriate for travel.

"Come, come. Sit! We need to cut your hair."

"My hair?"

"Yes, your hair. You are to be travelling as a man, are you not? Lucky for you not many others know of hobbit naming conventions or else you would have to take one of your brothers' names." With reluctance she sits in front of Mister Baggins, head held high and shoulders back. He's quick with his scissors, her long, dark hair falling around her. It's not long until she's staring into his mirror and it's quite a shock just how short her hair is. But it doesn't look bad. It looks quite good, actually. He shoves the outfit on top of the bag into her chest until she takes it from him, "Go rinse off and put those on. Goodnight, Hyacinth."

In the morning she is neither the first nor the last to wake. The princes are both still asleep, snoring away without a care, but the rest are awake. Ori is rubbing his eyes tiredly, hair a nest above his head. He looks as if he's been up for all of a minute. Dori is up and folding their families blankets to return to Mister Baggins, hair already neatly done and clothes smoothed out. He looks as if he's been up for the whole morning. Although, the sun is only just now thinking of rising into the sky. In an effort to not be left behind, or seem as weak as she remembers them thinking Bilbo would be, she pushes herself up out of the warmth of her blanket quickly. She is not nestled into any groups as the others are. She has no family in this group. She thinks not of how her hair must be sticking up in the air and instead sets her mind to folding the blanket she had taken from Bilbo neatly into a pile. If there is a moment before they leave and everyone is awake she will volunteer to return them to his linen closet. She runs her fingers through her hair in an attempt to get it to lay flat and then follows the sound of quiet chatter to the dining room.

In the attached kitchen she can see Bombur at the stove and Bofur at the counter chopping. At the table Bifur, Dwalin, Balin, and Thorin are talking in a language she doesn't know. Behind them Nori hovers in the shadows. She leaves them to it and steps into the kitchen. Around the corner and in a spot she hadn't been able to see before Oin os raiding Bilbo's cupboards and muttering about herbs. The only one she has yet to see is Gloin. Bombur turns away from the stove towards her and Bofur, clearly about to say something to his brother when his eyes land on her and he gasps. At the distressed sound Bofur whips around and does the same.

"What did you do to your hair?" Bofur exclaims.

Her eyebrows furrow, "My hair? Why? Does it look bad?" Her hands fly up to smooth it down again.

"Look bad? Lassie, why did you cut your hair?" He looks and sounds genuinely concerned, which is only confusing and worrying her further.

"Wasn't I supposed to?" The second the words leave her mouth Bombur makes a hurt sound and his ladle clatters into the pot.

Oin pulls his head out of a cupboard grumbling, "What is going on you tw- Hyacinth, why did you cut your hair?"

Bofur takes a small step towards her hands stretched out, but then stops, "Whyever you thought you had to cut your hair, please let us make it up to you and help fix it."

"You're making it seem like a big deal?" Several shocked and little hurt noises fill the space around her.

Bofur rubs the back of his neck, "It is a big deal?"

Her brow is starting to hurt from how tightly pinched it is, "No? I'm just trying to sell the whole 'I'm a man' thing?"

"We dishonoured her by making her dress as a man!" Oin all but wails.

She almost laughs from how confusing this whole thing is, "You didn't dishonour me in anyway."

Nori speaks behind her, "None of us dishonoured her. Hobbit men wear their hair short. Have none of you looked at Bilbo?"

Bofur visibly sags, and Bombur finally picks up his ladle to go back to stirring whatever he's making. Why he isn't using a spoon is beyond her, but not her field, not her ponies. Oin grumbles, "I thought it was short because he got caught stealing." He sticks his head back into the cupboard. She keeps standing there in complete confusion.

Nori's hand falls heavy on her shoulder and he leans down to whisper in her ear, "Go find Dori, he has something to show you." She nods sharply and turns on her heel in search of his older brother. She finds him in the hallway waiting for her. He ushers her into one of Bilbo's many spare rooms and shuts the door behind them.

She turns around to watch him, "Um?"

He smiles at her kindly and steps further into the room, "Have you ever had to pretend to be a man before?" She shakes her head and clasps her hands behind her back. "That's what I thought," he says, not unkindly. He pulls out a measuring tape from his pocket, "Our dams often have to when we are on the road. We've got quite a few tricks for hiding your chest when need be, although a specific garment is by far the best. I fortunately know how to make it, so I'm going to take your measurements right now and I should have it done in a few days time. I think during that time it should be fine if you don't bind, we'll be travelling through land Nori has assured me we shouldn't worry about." The dwarf continues rambling even as he makes her shed her top layers so that his measurements can be as precise as possible. She listens to his every instruction dutifully. In a few moments he's done and she's putting her shirt and vest back on. "You just come to me if you have any problems or worries, ok?" He smiles gently at her before ushering her back out of the room and to the table that everyone is sitting down at.

Bombur made them all porridge, and it's quite a lot of porridge, and they're passing the bowls around until everyone has one. She slides into a chair between Ori and Oin. She takes her bowl happily once Oin has his. Breakfast is a far quieter affair than supper was, but it was not silent. Even sleepy as he is, across the table Kíli cracks jokes. The porridge Bombur made is good, if a little bland. She eats it fast before it has a chance to cool, because cold porridge is not something she wishes to suffer through right now.

When the last spoon is set in it's accompanying bowl Thorin stands up, "We leave in fifteen minutes. Make sure you are packed and with the company by then." They pass their bowls to Bifur who seems to be in charge of washing the dishes with Ori, and the two are moving efficiently. As soon as her and Oin's bowls are passed along she stands up and rushes to collect all of Bilbo's blankets. She only knows they are his because of the style of quilting that they all share. She piles them up into a tower in her arms and waddles to the linen closet they came from. After those are put away she heads back into the room to hike Mister Baggins' pack onto her back and wait for the rest. She follows Dori, Nori, and Ori to the front garden in just a few moments, Dori having already gone through their packs earlier that morning.

Once everyone is gathered in the garden Thorin gives a supposedly rousing speech, but she finds herself instead watching the sun as it finishes rising. Finally, they set off and the ground beneath Hyacinth's feet is hard and dry.

Chapter Text

The ponies weren't expected. She thought it would be more like a walking holiday, a very long walking holiday. She had only ever been on two in her life, one right after she came of age in the Spring and the other with a boy who had been looking to court her once they were both old enough. She'd decided early into that walking holiday she had no interest in a life spent crocheting in a rocking chair, which is what he'd been preaching. She needed the dirt under her nails and tired muscles that came with the life she already lives. She has ridden a pony before, though. Not many times, but she has. She had expected to be left alone in the group, the dwarves flanking each other on the wide East road, but here Dori was riding beside her. The two of them sit in silence watching each other out of their peripheral. Somehow the dwarf is on ponyback and sewing, something she is certainly not skilled enough for. She doesn't quite understand how what he's making is going to hide her breasts, but he says it will.

Ori slows down from where he's riding with the princes just ahead of them and ends up on her other side. "Hyacinth," the young dwarf says, "why were you at Master Baggins' when we arrived?"

She hums for a moment while she thinks about his question, "You see, Ori, Mister Baggins owns the land my family farms. This year we've not gotten nearly enough rain, and this early in the season that can really affect how much our crops produce by harvest time, so I needed to talk to him about calling upon an old clause in case of bad seasons so he wouldn't have cause to get at us this autumn."

"Get at?" he murmurs, and then at a normal volume he says, "Like, evict you?"

"Oh I'm really not sure, it's never happened, and I've obviously never actually read the contract."

Beside her Ori nods while she's talking and then follows up with, "If you've never read it how do you know what's in it?"

"Well my family knew how to read back when the contract was made so now our parents tell us, and then if we keep living on that land we tell our kids. The head of the Baggins family, which is Mister Baggins right now, keeps it in his records and pulls it out whenever we need to talk about something in it." Ori goes quiet beside her, his face pinched in thought. She leaves him to it and keeps her eyes on the road ahead. Fíli is shaking his head aggressively at Kíli who has his head turned far enough for her to see that he's grinning.

"I think I could!" Kíli half whines.

"You're going to break your head open," Fíli counters quickly.

"You have no faith in me."

"I'd let you shoot an apple off my head, but there isn't a chance in the world you could stand up on the back of your pony." Well that's going to turn into a disaster. She's not going to intervene, though.

After half a day of riding Thorin calls for a break. They find a soft and open patch of grass to dismount in and they sit in a giant circle. A very lopsided circle. Bofur passes around rations for them to eat. She ends up flanked by him and Bifur, and across from her is Nori who winks the first time they make eye contact. She doesn't exactly know what it is she's eating, but she's hungry so it doesn't really matter. Bofur pulls his pipe out from somewhere amidst his clothes. She really needs to figure out just how many pockets dwarves usually have. He packs it with practiced ease and lights it. He puffs away beside her and she finds herself glancing over when the scent hits her nose. It's not as sweet as the stuff people usually smoke back home, a bit more bitter. She thinks this smells a whole lot better.

He must have caught her staring because he holds out the pipe to her and asks, "Want some?"

She hesitates just a little bit, "No, women don't smoke."

He elbows her a little roughly and smirks, "Good thing you aren't one out here." She smiles a little at the jostling. He shrugs and finishes with a, "Ah, but you don't have to."

She turns to look at Bifur. His food is finished and now he's picking long blades of grass and carefully splitting them down the middle. He seems to be the only one who's acknowledging the field around them in any manner. She doesn't know how long they'll be here, but it should be at least awhile longer considering the princes laying on top of each other and Ori scribbling in his journal. She takes up the long grass, and it really is quite long here, and carefully begins to braid it. It'll only be a small one, but it's a familiar motion. When enough of it has formed as to be identifiable Bifur grunts out a string of words in that language she doesn't know. She's very quickly gathered that it's all he speaks. Bofur in turn translates if it's her he's talking to, which this time it is, "He's asking what you're doing."

"Braiding the grass," she responds without looking up.

Bofur laughs, "Clearly. Is there any particular reason?"

She shrugs as much as she can with her hands dug into the grass like this, "Keeps my hands busy."

He hums and nods. Bifur laughs a little on her other side. All too soon Thorin is calling for them to climb back up on their ponies and keep riding. There are many many miles until The Lonely Mountain and only so many days of kind weather. Balin falls in line with her this time and she's really starting to think that they've made some sort of pact to never leave her alone. The two of them ride in easy quiet for awhile. He rides with all the familiarity of someone who's been on enough trips to never again be uncomfortable on a pony.

Eventually, though, he does turn his head towards her and ask, "How are you enjoying pants, Hyacinth?"

She smiles and chuckles a little, "I'm sweaty in places I didn't know could sweat. Just as I'm sure I'll be sore in places I didn't know existed tomorrow morning."

He laughs heartily at her comments, "Yes, I'm sure you will be. Although, you do ride as if you have some experience."

"Our neighbors got ponies and their equipment for the fields quite a few years back. Sometimes their sons would take me and my sister on rides on days where we all had less work. It wasn't often back then, and it certainly hasn't happened since I refused to give the eldest my hand in marriage."

"He would throw away your friendship because you rejected him?" Balin asks, but he isn't looking at her. His eyes flick over to where Dori rides in front of them with Bifur.

Her eyebrows pinch together, "Yeah?"

Balin looks back at her, "Then I believe it is a good thing you rejected him."

"Me too," she laughs a little. The two of them fall back into silence as the day passes by. The sun is inching back towards the western horizon, the world around them turning more and more golden the later it gets.

Soon they're dismounting in the fleeting light. She is tasked with firewood collection alongside Dwalin. He doesn't let her stray far from him, especially not so far as to be out of sight, even though she knows it would be much more efficient that way. He doesn't say much in general, but he says even less to her as they work. He just takes the large logs from her, even the ones she could've carried with ease, and leaves her to collect the tinder and branches of much smaller size. They arrive back at camp arms bundled full. The two of them separate the wood out into piles based off size far enough away from the fire ring to not worry about them catching but close enough it won't be a chore to add more to the fire. Gloin thanks them.

She steps away and over to her pack as Oin and Gloin begin to argue over the best way to start a fire. She opens it for the first time finally. On top is a neatly folded blanket, it's heavy and thick. It will be very warm on chilly nights. Underneath it there's a pouch of dried herbs, a very packed pouch of dried herbs. There's a note underneath it, but she can't read it. She glances around the camp, is there anyone she could bother asking to read it? She picks both up and sets them in her lap so she can keep digging through the bag. There's two spare outfits, and several undergarments. Her cheeks flush when she remembers Mister Baggins packed this bag, not her. There's also a little coin purse with the clothes. She doesn't dig any deeper than that, putting the blanket back in nicely. She pauses when she picks the pouch of herbs and the note back up. She squints at the shapes that are letters written on the paper. No, no matter what way she turns it she doesn't know what it says.

Nori appears at her side, "Whatcha got there?"

She clutches both the pouch and the note to her chest with a sharp inhale. She stares at him and he doesn't seem fazed by it at all. Finally she slags and says, "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

Hyacinth looks at him, unimpressed, "Did I pack my bag?"

He sighs a little, "No, I suppose you didn't." She unclutches the things from her chest and returns to looking at the note. Maybe if she looks just a little harder she won't have to ask for help. Unfortunately, she misses when Nori moves to peer over her shoulder. He hums and then says, "Oh! Those are for your cycle."

"What?"

"I mean it's a good thing he thought of that, I was worried we were going to have take bits off some of ours," he keeps talking.

"What do you mean my cycle?" she asks more sternly.

He pauses and she can feel his eyes digging into her skull, "Your period. That is what hobbits call it, right?"

"Yes, yes. That's right," she flushes while she talks. Obviously they already know she's a lady, but to just talk about such a thing without shame? She quickly tucks them into her bag so no one else can see them and asks at the same time, "How do I use them?"

"Once a month or so boil them into a tea and drink the whole cup. Should halt the whole thing so you don't bleed and ruin your clothes," his volume had lowered noticeably now. She nods sharply and turns further away from him. There's nothing to busy her hands with, but there is no way she's facing him now. A few moments later she hears his footsteps retreat and her body lets go of tension she hadn't realized it was holding.

Now that she's alone and thoroughly embarrassed she looks around the camp. Bedrolls are being spread out in the same family groups as the night before in Bag End. Hyacinth meets Balin's eyes on accident and he gestures for her to come over. She leaves her bag where it is and heads over even if she doesn't have the faintest clue what he could need her for.

As soon as she arrives in front of Balin Dwalin shows up behind her and he's holding her pack. "Forgot this," he says and sets it next to her. He kneels next to his own pack a foot or so away and gets to setting out his bedroll. She stands there staring at Balin with her pack at her feet.

He smiles kindly at her, "I figured you could sleep with us, lassie," he says the last word extremely quiet, "It wouldn't do to leave you on the outside after all, not out here." Dwalin grunts in agreement before flicking his bedroll out with a snap. She nods mutely at them both and looks at how they've set up their spots. On Balin's other side is Oin, and there's not nearly enough space between them for her to set up there. On Dwalin's other side is Bifur setting up his and his cousins' spots, also without enough space for her there either. That only leaves between them. She looks at Balin again, he's still smiling. Dwalin's back is to her, there's no way to know what he's thinking even if she could understand his expressions.

Well, it seems she's doing this. She kneels down with her pack and unties her bedroll from the front of it. Carefully, so as not to disturb anyone, she unrolls it and slides it into position between the two brothers. Neither of them say anything, so she'll assume she's done what they were asking. No one else has pulled out any blankets, so she leaves hers in her bag for now. Instead, she sits on the very foot of her roll, legs tucked neatly to the side of her body. Just like her mother taught her.

In a few short minutes of quiet Bofur and Bombur are passing around bowls of stew. It's warm, it's hearty, and she has no complaints. She eats the whole bowl, but by the end of it she finds herself wishing for just a little more. There isn't more, though. These two know how to make exact amounts, and it's honestly impressive. It's alright, she'll likely have to get used to the hunger at some point anyways. The night is still early, and they've only just set out on their quest to reclaim a homeland, so once dinner is finished and the dishes passed to Bifur and Ori, Bofur pulls out his flute and Kíli perks up when he begins to play. Eventually the young prince is singing along cheerily to what seems to be a drinking song. Beside her she can just barely hear Dwalin humming along too. The company goes through a few songs before he collapses backwards onto his roll with a huff and calls out a cheery, "Goodnight!" It's echoed around the camp and followed by the sounds of shuffling as many dwarves and a hobbit pull out their blankets and get comfortable for the night.

She has no pillow, it would take up far too much space she imagines. There is just enough of a chill in the air tonight where she doesn't wish to give up her blanket to the duties of a pillow. So instead she bends her arm and tucks her head into the crook of her elbow. Her wrist will be sore come morning, she knows, but it's comfortable enough to fall asleep. She pulls her other arm in close to her chest and shifts her hips back so she's a little bit more in a ball. Yes, this is comfortable enough. Hyacinth is asleep within minutes.

It's a few long days of travel before anything breaks their quickly forming routine. A few long, quickly warming days. Summer is still a ways off, but it's approach is already on the breeze. But spring shows it's colors today with a storm. She smelled it on the air when they woke up, but had not yet bothered to dig through her pack for her cloak. When the leaves begin to flip, she then pulls her pack around to her front while astride her pony and begins to search.

One of the dwarves calls out to her, "What are you looking for?"

"My cloak," she answers loudly enough for all of them to at least sort of hear.

"Whatever for?" asks another, confused and a little gruff.

Her hands make contact with the edge of an oilskin thing that she prays is a cloak. She smiles a little and begins to tug it out, careful not to send anything tumbling out of her bag and to the ground. At the same time she answers, "It's going to rain. Can't you tell?" The silence is a resounding no. "You can't tell?" she asks again, this time in shock.

"Er, no, I can't," comes Ori's answer. She hums in surprise and swings her bag back onto her back. She attempts to wrestle the cloak to cover both her and her bag, which she only just succeeds in because she is that slightest bit smaller than Mister Baggins. "How can you tell?" Ori asks.

"It's smelled of it all day, but the leaves have started to flip. They do that before it rains," she answers simply. Ori nods quickly beside her and digs through his pockets for his journal. He scribbles quickly, hopefully quick enough that he'll finish before the sky opens up.

It isn't long before the rain hits, still cold like it always is in spring. Most of the dwarves had dug out their own cloaks just before they were being pelted, but up at the front Oin hadn't heard them, and Thorin had chosen to ignore them. This day seems even longer, and by lunch she is shaking like a leaf even if she's not soaked to the bone. They don't stop for lunch in this weather, the ponies already moving slower and the ground not pleasant to sit on. Instead their food is being passed around the company on their ponies while they keep trudging forwards. She almost unbalances as she reaches to take her share from Dori, but somehow she manages to stay astride. Ahead of her she can see Bofur attempting to puff on his pipe, but the rain isn't really letting him do that. Eventually he shrugs to himself and tucks it back into his pocket.

Shortly after lunch the rain clears away and the sun peeks through. It's warm on her skin when she peels her cloak off and packs it back away. Despite that, she knows that with a morning wet as theirs was, the ground will not be fully dry by the time they bed down for the night. She resigns herself to the damp, and possibly the cold, as she isn't sure the dwarves will know how to start a fire with wet wood. Her brothers were much better at it than her, but she knows how to well enough. Maybe tonight she will impose upon Oin and Gloin and show them. It might be worth it tonight.

The ponies continue to clop forward until Thorin calls for them to halt. It's earlier than usual, but she certainly isn't complaining. They took small rests, mostly bathroom breaks, but she is tired from what was an even more full day of riding than usual. Her pony is tired too. She leaves the pony with Nori, Fíli, and Kíli, and then looks towards Dwalin. He is sat down already, not bothering with finding firewood. She shakes her head at him and disappears off herself to find some. It takes a few trips to bring back as much as they normally do, and after the first one Dwalin attempts to stop her saying there is no point after the rain this morning. She just tells him to trust her and keeps at it. When she's finished collecting all of it Oin and Gloin haven't set up a fire spot, so she sets to work on that. This is unfamiliar work as they have plenty of age old ones to use back home. But she has an idea of what to do. She recruits Nori to bring her a shovel and sets to digging a hole in the earth. She doesn't see nearly enough stones nearby to line it, so she digs a little deeper. Yes, this should do. Maybe not nicely, but well enough.

Starting the fire is the hardest bit. Wet wood does not burn easy, but it will burn. Once she has it going she turns to the dwarves that she had zoned out while she worked. They are collectively staring at her in awe. "Bofur, Bombur," she starts, "if you are going to make us a warm supper I suggest you start now before I build the roof."

"Just build the roof, Hyacinth, whatever that means," Bofur responds.

She pushes her sleeves back up from where they had started to fall down her arms again and nods. With a practiced hand she places some of the biggest logs over the fire as if they were a roast. The fire will dry their undersides, and the logs themselves should keep any possible rain from putting it out. She settles back on her haunches now that her work is done, and she did an alright job if she does say so herself. There is space enough to stoke and poke the fire, space enough for heat to escape. Although, it is certainly darker than usual.

A hand falls on her shoulder and she jumps. When she turns to look it's just Dori, though. "You did a good job," he opens with, "I wanted to give you this, though." He hands her a bundle of fabric, and she knows he's finished with her final piece of disguise. "Don't wear it at night, please, it can be dangerous. And don't be surprised if you struggle to put it on tomorrow morning," he finishes, smiling at her. She nods at him and says her thank you's. Dangerous? How could that be? But she'll take him at his word, dwarves are apparently the experts at disguising their women.

Tonight is another cold meal. She does not complain, although she wishes to. Her bones have a chill in them and she's holding her body so tight it hurts to suppress her shivers. The meal is eaten in relative silence, and everyone is far too tired for song or story tonight. They settle into their rolls and pray the weather stays kind for the night. She is asleep within minutes, once she shifts enough for the soreness to fade into the background.

Chapter Text

The days are long, and the nights far too short on the road. At least in her opinion, she's sure the others might disagree, mostly because she's yet to have been given watch duty even once, while they all most certainly have. She won't say anything, though. Balin and Dwalin are still insistent that she sleeps between them, although Bofur has tried to steal her twice. But the sun is in the sky now, so they are riding. Beside her is Gloin, who has yet to say a word, and behind her is Gandalf puffing away on his pipe. The wind carries the stench to her, Old Toby. She's never liked it, but now that she's smelled what the dwarves smoke she likes it even less. Not that she will say anything, of course.

The sun is high in the sky already, beating down on them. If it weren't for the wind blowing at their backs she would already be overheating. She's close to it either way, though. The ponies clop forward as if they aren't likely warmer than her, what with all the fur and weight they carry. Ahead Dwalin laughs loudly, birds squawking and shooting out of nearby trees at the sudden sound. The path under their feet doesn't widen but the bushes that line it recede. As soon as there is enough space Ori once again slows into the spot beside her. He's made quite a habit out of doing that. The silence continues on for a moment, he doesn't seem to yet know what he will ask her today, but there's always something that he's curious about.

When it continues to stretch between them she turns and voices her own curiosity, "How do dwarves pass the time?"

He straightens up a little, "We tell stories."

"Hobbits save those for the evening. Why don't you all tell any as we ride?" She catches the hesitant look he shoots Gloin on the other side of her, but she doesn't mention it. He doesn't say anything at all for a long moment so she asks, "Would you like to hear some of ours?"

He lights up immediately, "Yes!"

"Ok, give me a moment to think of one." She slips into her head and thinks of stories she listened to by her mothers feet when she was younger. It takes a minute to recall one in full, and the one she picks used to be her favorite. When she focuses back in on the present it's obvious that Bofur is listening in, and both of the princes have dropped further back in line to be able to hear as well. She swallows, and makes sure to project when she starts the story, "There was a girl named Snapdragon, and she was just like any hobbit lass. She kept her skirts neat, she helped her mother keep a beautiful garden, but there was one thing about her unlike anyone else. She has never been seen without the garish green ribbon tied around her neck since she put it on.

"There was also a boy named Bill, and he lived next door to Snapdragon throughout their childhood. They played together when they were small, and he watched her in the garden whenever he could when they were no longer faunts. Eventually the two of them courted, then married.

"He asked about the ribbon many times before their marriage, but his questions grew more insistent once they were together. 'Snap, plum, you must tell me what is with that ribbon now that we're married!' he demanded the night of their wedding. Still she refused him. He sighed and left it be for the night, the two of them curling up together in their bed. The next night he asked again, and she told him to wait. He did, taking her into his arms so that they can sleep. That pattern repeats for a week.

"On the eighth day he could stand it no longer. He asked Snapdragon one final time to give her a chance to tell him, 'What is under your ribbon?'

"She sat up from where she was already laying under the covers hoping he had given up on asking and responded, 'Bill, I've told you already. I can't show you yet, you'll have to wait.'

"He didn't listen to her that time. He knelt on the bed above her and untied the green ribbon himself. Her head fell off."

There's a chorus of gasps at the reveal that make her feel quite proud of her storytelling until she looks around at the general discomfort on all the faces she can see. Ori is staring at her mouth agape and forehead creased. Everyone else is still vaguely pretending as if they weren't listening.

Eventually he closes his mouth and visibly swallows before saying, "Why would he do that?"

She cocks her head to the side, "Do what?"

"Why would Bill take off her ribbon when she'd made it very clear she didn't want him to?" Several others demand an answer to this question in loud voices as soon as Ori finishes speaking.

She hesitates. She doesn't understand why that's what they're asking, and she doesn't have an answer for them either. At least, not one that the story didn't already make clear. Ori's eyes watching her, waiting for the answer, are what spur her to state the obvious, "Because she refused to listen to him. It was well within his rights as her husband." Somehow the road goes completely silent. In fact, several of the dwarves draw their ponies up short as soon as she stops talking. She nearly runs into Kíli, but her own pony stops just shy of it.

"He has no such right to just disrespect her like that!" Gloin blusters beside her.

"Well, she was refusing him," she says like it's obvious, because it is. Gloin, and possibly Bombur, make a loud noise and she can see Bofur drag a hand down his face up ahead.

Fíli turns to look at her in his saddle, his face all scrunched up, "The only thing he had the right to do was lay off her about it." Kíli and Ori nod emphatically while he speaks.

"They're married," she counters. The silence grows, the entire company having come to a halt at this point. No one says anything in response, but there are thirteen sets of eyes on her. Gandalf is not one of them, thoroughly unperturbed by this entire conversation. In the end no one says anything against her until Thorin calls them back into motion.

Nori and Bofur pinch her between them as they set off again. They make up the rear of the company as the two chatter over her. She stays out of it, not even listening to the words they're saying. It isn't long until Bofur pulls his pipe out of wherever he keeps it tucked away and begins to pack it with leaf from his pouch. It takes him only a moment, the motions practiced. He puffs at it for a second before leaning over and asking her to pass it to Nori. She takes it hesitantly, not entirely sure how likely it is to spill, and then passes it to the other dwarf. Nori puffs on it for a moment, apparently not one to turn down an offer although she knows he has his own, before asking her if she wants any. She declines politely, she's beginning to gather that dwarves don't view it poorly for her to smoke. He shrugs, and then asks her to pass it back to Bofur. She does so without much of a complaint, although she does huff a little. It would be rather hard for them to shift to be next each other right now.

"Y'know," Nori starts suddenly, "I could tell you a story we used to tell Ori when he was little." Bofur coughs a little on her other side. "It's a lot shorter than the one you told us, but it's a story." He waits for her to nod and the starts, "So, somehow, someway a fox manages to break into the storeroom for a theater. When he looks up he is terrified to find a face leering down at him. After the initial shock passes he looks a little more closely at it and discovers that it's just a mask, the type that the actors use to cover their faces. He laughs a little to himself and says, 'You look very pretty, but it's a pity you don't have any brains.'"

"I certainly know a few hobbits that could stand to hear that one," she says when it's clear he's finished. Bofur bursts into laughter at her comment and Nori chuckles with him. The two talk easy for the rest of the day's ride, and she is happy to listen in. With the sun setting Thorin calls for them to halt by the husk of an old building. A burnt building. It does not sit well in her stomach.

Her and Dwalin are quick to begin collecting wood, a quiet rhythm having been built between them at this point. Each day the job seems to go a little quicker, although she knows at some point it will plateau. Today she whistles as she works, thinking on those stories earlier had brought to mind her brother's favorite work songs. Wood collecting doesn't have nearly the same rhythm as sowing seeds, but she makes it work.

When she comes back to their circle with the final bundle of wood in her arms she watches Gandalf storm off muttering about dwarves. What an odd and irritable wizard he is. She shakes her head as she watches him go before turning to put her wood in the correct piles.

Dusk is past and evening set in by the time the soup for tonight is made. Fresh rabbit is in it tonight thanks to Kíli while Nori and Fíli had taken care of the ponies immediately after riding. Now the two princes were off in the edges of the woods with the ponies for some reason she doesn't precisely know. Bofur hands her two bowls after she finished her own, as she ate it quickly and was the first done, and asks her to take them to the princes.

It's not hard to follow the sounds of their swords clashing or their laughter in the dim light to find them. She walks between the final trees hiding them, steps muffled by fallen needles. Kíli calls out her name the moment his eyes lock on her. Fíli whips around to look at her and the moment he starts to speak Kíli shoves him hard enough to send him falling face first into the forest floor. With a foot on Fíli's back Kíli declares himself the winner of their little fight.

Hyacinth smiles a little while shaking her head, "I brought you two dinner."

As soon as Kíli's boot is off his back Fíli pops up and the two are rushing over to take their bowls. Fíli spins back towards the ponies while eating and after a moment he freezes and says, "We're missing a few."

Kíli starts counting them under his breath and then swears loudly, "Thorin will not be happy."

She shushes the two of them and listens. The peepers are still going, and there's no rustling or howls. That doesn't necessarily rule out coyotes or wolves, but it eases her suspicions a little. "Come on, we need to go see what they might've left behind," she ushers them forward with her.

On the other side of where the remaining ponies are clustered together and obviously spooked she trips over a ridge in the dirt. Fíli helps her back up and Kíli is staring a little too intensely at where she tripped.

"What is it?" Fíli asks him, a steadying hand still on her arm.

"Trolls," Kíli says matter of factly, fear bleeding into the edges of his voice. The two of them have a silent conversation with their eyes before turning to face her. There's a smear of soup on Kíli's cheek. "You should go find the ponies," Kíli says.

"We should tell Thorin," she counters.

"You have enough skill, right?" Fíli asks.

She huffs, "Yes, but-"

"Well then, that's settled! You can go look for the ponies and steal them back," Kíli declares and pushes her forwards a little to follow the troll tracks. After only a few moments of walking a flickering light in the distance becomes obvious. She'd bet anything on it being the troll's fire. They finally reach the edge of the clearing, and she's still not sure that this is the best course of action. The princes seem confident it is, though, so when they duck behind an upturned log with promises to be right behind her if need be she takes a steadying breath and begins to creep forward.

The pine needles under her feet disappear and turn into tall grass. She keeps her body low and her steps soft as she creeps to the crudely constructed pen that the ponies are being kept in for now. She resolutely ignores the trolls, all three of them, as they discuss their feelings on their upcoming meal. Pony certainly doesn't seem the most appetizing to her, and one of the trolls seems to agree. She rounds the edge of the pen and starts to tug on the rope. It's much too thick for her hands, and being unable to get a proper grip makes untying this simple knot much harder than it has any right being. She knows knots, and a half hitch should not be giving her trouble to undo right now. She struggles and fumbles with the thick rope, but just as she thinks she has it a troll exclaims loudly and she jumps. The rope slips from her hands.

In two lumbering steps the largest of the trolls is close enough to bend down and grab her. She didn't have any time to flee or hide. "Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Asks the troll holding her. She doesn't answer, throat clogged as she stares into dark eyes.

"Looks like a little person," chimes in one of the other trolls.

The third points out the obvious, "He's much too small to be a man!"

"Shut it, both of you," the one holding her demands, his hand squeezing a little tighter around her in his frustration. He looks back at her, "Well, what are you?"

Fíli and Kíli better hurry up and do whatever they can soon, it's getting rather hard to breathe in this grip. She takes as deep a breath as she can manage and says, "I'm a hobbit."

"What's a hobbit?" one of the two in the back asks.

Something loud and heavy crashes through the underbrush back towards where she came from. Kíli confidently demands that the troll drops her, which she really doesn't expect to work. Why did she ever let them make the plan?

In her moment of irritation towards the two princes she misses what the troll says in response, so the next thing she knows she is flying through the air and crashing into Kíli. The two of them go tumbling to the ground together. The company bursts out of the woods with their weapons brandished, hooting and hollering in the same moment. The two of them help each other stand, and Kíli is quick to run off with the rest of the dwarves and throw himself into the fray.

The ponies were spooked before the noise and the fighting started, working to get the pen open now will only lead to them losing them in the woods. So she steadies herself for a moment longer before finding a tree to climb. Best to stay out from underfoot right now.

The dwarves don't win the fight with the trolls in the end. They're all unceremoniously stuffed into sacks. Most of them are put in the right way around, but poor Oin is shoved in head first. That must smell. The trolls spend a very long time arguing about how to cook the dwarves rather than actually doing it. She sits on her branch and watches them grow more and more irritated with each other.

What could she even do right now? How could she ever save them? She's not sure she's strong enough to drag even one of them to safety fast enough that a troll wouldn't notice. And there's nothing she could ever say to dissuade trolls from eating dwarves, if anything she'll only get herself eaten as well. So she sits quietly on her branch for even longer, tears in her eyes. Why couldn't it have been coyotes or wolves? She at least sort of knows how to deal with those, and the dwarves probably know how to kill them.

The trolls argue for so long that by the time they start setting up a spit to roast them all on the horizon is beginning to lighten. From her vantage point she can just barely see Gandalf sweep in behind a boulder. She doesn't necessarily trust him to come up with a plan, but she's got no idea what to do herself so she watches him. When the sun finally peeks up above the line where the land and sky meet he suddenly cracks a boulder in two. She doesn't quite know why, but probably because of the sun, the trolls turn into stone. Poor Ori is trapped inside one of the hands of the trolls now. Bofur and Nori, as soon as they are freed from their sacks, are quick to start rescuing him.

Hyacinth slides down and out of her tree, and the second Thorin's eyes land on her he is storming across the clearing. As soon as he is within range of her he starts nearly yelling at her, "Where were you the entire time we were in those sacks?"

She squares her shoulders and swallows the lump in her throat, "I was in the tree."

"Then why didn't you aid us in escaping?" he demands, closer and possibly louder now.

"What could I have done?"

"Released us from our sacks!"

"I would have been spotted before even untying one of you, because if you hadn't noticed I'm not strong enough to have dragged any of you out of sight!"

"I thought you said you had skill to survive the wilds and help us," Thorin bites in before Gandalf successfully tugs him away from her. She watches as the dwarves check each other over in their family groups. No one comes over to her at any point. That's alright. She slowly sinks to her knees where she's standing, and wraps her arms around herself. That's alright. Nori, once sure his brothers are alright, works on the knots holding the ponies in. She can't really breathe, but she doesn't think it's her ribs. No one died, but if it weren't for Gandalf they would have. All of them but her. And would she have been able to get home without dying too? It seems unlikely. No, she would never have managed that.

Gandalf is happy to usher her after the group to find the hoard. She follows after their stomping feet, and the moment they open the door she is overwhelmed by the stench. It's nauseating and powerful, she can taste it. She turns to Gandalf when he lightly pushes on her shoulder and shakes her head, "I will not be going in there."

He pauses, an odd looking crossing his face when he looks at her, "Suit yourself."

It isn't long before Nori reappears muttering about finding a shovel, and disappears back off towards camp. A few minutes later he heads back in without so much as nodding at her. Several more minutes pass before dwarves begin trickling out of the opening. Gandalf is the last one to come back into the sunlight, and he's clutching something tightly. He marches up to her with the stubborn air of importance being a wizard has irrevocably given him. The little bundle that he's holding is held out to her and unwrapped, it's a sword. A very small sword.

"Gandalf, I don't know how to use that," she scolds him.

"And pray you never have to learn," he responds.

She sighs and states the obvious once more, "I'll only do more damage untrained with a sword than I ever could without one."

"Then learn how to use it if you're worried, Hyacinth. But you will take the sword."

When she accepts it and holds the little sword on her lap Gandalf sweeps away, revealing Dwalin staring at her. She thought for a moment he might offer to train her, but his eyes are hard in the brief second theirs meet before he turns away from her. She will just have to learn herself, it seems.

Chapter Text

The air in Rivendell is almost thin with just how clean it is. And that certainly isn't making this monumentous task she has set herself to any easier. For the past week that they have been here she has been learning how to handle her new sword as best she can. Today, the final day of their stay as both Gandalf and Thorin have dictated that they set out early tomorrow morning, an elf stands on the far side of the clearing she has all but claimed for the week. It's not too far from where their company is staying in these massive airy halls, but it is far enough that she does not have to listen to their chatter and laughter when they clearly do not want her there. She slashes the sword through the air a few more times, feeling the balance grow more natural in her grip with every one. She cannot help but to realize, though, that she is nowhere near the ease she has seen everyone else use their weapons with at this point. In some ways she feels as if she is closer, she understands how the balance and weight of the sword impacts the motion of her arm, but little else feels solid.

She resets her feet in an imitation of what she's others do when fighting a sword. It's sturdy and balanced, something near how she used to hold herself when her brothers and her used to wrestle. Her sisters never took much interest in that game, and her mother would always shake her head and sigh when she would come back to the house with stained skirts from their rough housing. She holds the sword out in front of her to start, ignoring the slight shake of tired muscles. She needs to learn this, at least something of it, even if there is no one to teach her. She swings at an imaginary foe, feet firmly planted in the earth so they couldn't possibly knock her over.

Her eyes snap back to the elf standing on the edge of the clearing when a second joins them. At the dinners Lord Elrond hosts for them there are always curious eyes pinned to her that do not follow the dwarves. And often elves would meander, intentionally slow, through the clearing she exhausts herself in. It's easy to notice the way their eyes linger, and much harder to ignore it. Now these two stand far off, blatantly watching her, but offering no aid in her endeavors. With a huff she shoves the little sword into it's sheath when they lean closer together and begin to talk. She marches off, not paying attention to the direction her feet lead. It's away from the elves that stare at her much like her Grandfather stares at the butterflies he has pinned, and it's away from the dwarves who won't so much as look at her anymore.

What could she have done that night, anyways? What did they expect of her? She didn't even have this sword then. They were her friends, if she could have saved them she would have. But she didn't even try, did she? No, of course they're mad, she didn't. She sat in a tree, out of sight and out of mind, while the trolls argued how best to eat the and their families.

The ground under her feet changes from soft grass to stone suddenly. Then it tilts up and into a staircase that she climbs as she ponders the rest of this journey to come. The open air grows a little staler as Hyacinth weaves through hallways that are slowly less and less open air. All of the hallways here are large, but the one her feet come to a stop in is particularly grand. Large windows line a section of one wall, the bright afternoon sun highlighting a mosaic that takes up the opposite wall. It's a grandiose scene, fire, flames, and two tall figures on a precipice above it all.

Small, slow steps take her closer to the art, but it's not made with smaller viewers in mind. No matter where she stands she can't make out who those two dark-haired, tall figures are, they're far too high up on the wall. Closer to her eye-level, just above the lava as if it's falling into it, there's a glint of gold. She traces that little ring of golden pieces that catch the sunlight and shimmer with a finger. It's smoother than she expects. She rubs her finger over it a few more times as her eyes take in what else she can make out. There isn't much at her height though, just fire and lava and stone.

She steps away from the story she doesn't know and takes in the rest of the hallways she's found herself in. The colors are darker, but they're just as plain as the brighter areas she's seen in excess. The elves seem to refuse any colors besides white, gray, green, and apparently this mosaic. She follows the curve of the hall forwards, not back, and deeper in than she has yet to go. How hard could it be to get back to their space? Or at least, how hard could it be to find an elf to ask for help?

The colors once more brighten into those lighter grays and whites she's grown used to as she wanders further and further from her field. Sometimes she passes elves who's heads turn to follow her as she goes, but for long stretches of these twisting halls she finds herself truly alone. It's when the sun is noticeably lower in the sky, but nowhere yet near setting, that she stumbles across someone she knows. Not well, of course, as she isn't sure there's a soul here who she can confidently say she knows well. But it's one she knows better than most of the current occupants, Nori. He's not looking at her, and he hasn't seemed to notice her footsteps approaching yet so she tucks herself into the shadows and watches for a moment.

It quickly puts into perspective just what Dwalin had meant that night before all of this started. Nori certainly does seem familiar with stealing things. He's sorting several pieces of elvish silverware, the good kind, into pockets deep within his clothes. If Hyacinth knows anything about people and their good silverware she knows that they don't just give those away to anybody who asks. He glances around, eyes just barely missing her, before he mutters something and stands. The dwarf disappears down a different turn, and she waits a long moment before moving again. She follows back her own path until she finds herself in much more familiar territory.

Dwarves are never quiet. Not when they sleep, and certainly never when they wake up early to leave with the sunrise. Her pack is all but ready to be slung on her back when she finally sits up and disentangles from the warmth of her bedroll. Despite all the open air, she will miss the warmth that Rivendell innately seems to have. Gloin trips over the end of her bedroll before she can stand up and put it away, and he walks off grumbling without even throwing a glance at her. She ignores it, just as she has been since this all started, and keeps on as she was. Packing her blanket away, rolling up her bedroll, straightening out her hair, and such.

Breakfast is quick and cold from their own supply, which has been bolstered by the elves. Gandalf made it quite clear that Lord Elrond does not approve of their quest, which is why they're leaving early and without the wizard, but even he will not send them back off into the wilds without food no matter which way they are going.

The sky is turning beautiful, fiery shades as they head out. In front of her Dwalin mutters something about red skies in the morning, and in front of him Nori nods a little. She turns her eyes to the ground beneath her feet so as not to lose herself in the view, it would not do to fall behind in her awe.

She can feel the moment they leave Rivendell properly, and it's a breath of fresh air. Full air. Her feet are wet with the dew, her hair plastered to them. It's just like early mornings she grew up with, although with far fewer tasks to deal with. There is simply walking now, their ponies left behind at Gandalf's demands. She takes a moment, even as she keeps moving forward at the pace of the dwarves, to breathe it all in. It doesn't quite smell like home, but it fills her lungs with that joy she's come to find in working the fields. It might even be better out here.

The sun turns hot quick, and she sheds her outer layer with ease. One strap of her bag taken off her shoulder so he can pull that sleeve of her coat off, and then put it back on so she can do the other side. She pulls the body of her bag in front of her to shove the coat inside and wipes sweat from her forehead. It's a little chilly without that layer, but she knows well enough that she needs to readjust before deciding to put the coat back on. She wishes the mountains would cast their shadows over this land as much as they loom up so high nearby. But they don't, the sun still beats down on the company as they cross the earth that is quickly sloping up.

It's more than a day, in fact it is a few, by the time that they reach a place she classifies as in the mountains. It's almost deceptive how far the land stretched out before them. The dwarves do not seem so bothered by the incline, or the stone, but she shouldn't be surprised considering where they are going and why. Her hands latch onto the straps of her bag, taking some of the weight as she treks on in the middle of this day. The order everyone walks in changes often throughout the day, but Dwalin and Balin have largely stayed up towards the front with Thorin, talking and pointing at things as they walk. Nori and Bofur are often next to each other, smoking or laughing, but just as often they split up. Bofur could be found with anyone, really, making easy jokes, or listening to what they have to say. Nori, on the other hand, is really only found with his family as well, although once in awhile he walks just behind Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin. The princes travel together, inseparable, but always flitting about. The others stick to their families, mostly, but let whoever approaches besides her into their conversations. She walks at their pace in whatever part of the group she ends up in. It's quiet around her as she spends her days looking at wildflowers by her feet, and avoiding plants that have the intentions of stabbing her.