Raven: An Unexpected Adventure

One

Raven

Buckland, by the Old Forest

Early September 2958

(Sixteen years later)

Raven was no longer a babe. No indeed, she might not look all of her fifteen years of age, but she was well on her way through adolescence. She was tall for a hobbit, already almost the same height as Bilba, her mother, though she only looked about eleven. Raven apparently took after her father, not that she and Bilba talked much about him. She had sapphire blue eyes and thick dark locks that were wavy, but not quite curly. In spite of her dwarvish features, however, her feet were larger and thicker-soled than a dwarrow's, her ears were slightly pointed and, at least as of yet, she showed no signs of growing a beard. Sometimes, Raven suspected, it hurt Bilba to see her because of how much she reminded Bilba of Raven's father, but such suspicions were never actually discussed.

Earlier on this particular mid-autumn day, Raven had woken up and checked her traps. Usually, Bilba came with her, but her Aunt Primula had been called back to Brandy Hall to tend to her ill father. Without her around, Bilba and Raven both had to work harder so she had taken it upon herself to go alone. The gardens were overflowing with crops to be tended to, harvested, and prepared before winter so Bilba couldn't really spare the time to check the traps. Anyways, Raven was fifteen, going on sixteen, and she had done this before; she could take care of herself she reasoned.

Unfortunately, the lines were empty. One trap had been sprung, but its prey had gotten away to her disappointment. Raven saw to it that the traps were all still functioning and put a small amount of fresh bait in each one. The bait was precious left-over food that she, Bilba, and Aunt Primula had given up in the hopes of getting meat to add to their stews. The next time that she got to check the traps, Raven hoped that they'd be successful. Already, it had been nearly a month since she'd caught anything and with the coming winter, she'd have even less success.

The dwobbit, as Bilba affectionately called her, was headed back towards the smial when she heard the loud company. She quickly hid herself and waited. If Bilba knew how close to the road Raven was, then she'd be furious, but cutting back on the road was the quickest way back. Not to mention, without any meat, Raven knew that she'd have to venture into the village for supplemental provisions. There were only so many days that they could live on naught but fruit and vegetables. Judging by the sun, it had to be nearly ten in the morning, she guessed, so time if she wanted bread with her supper then she'd have to get to town fast. Raven clutched her dagger at her side, just in case, as the company passed above on the road. Bilba did not approve of her having it, but Raven knew better than to go out unarmed. While hobbits could typically be dealt with using fists, it wasn't just hobbits that crossed this part of the Shire, and Raven had been out hunting anyways.

It didn't take long for a dwarven company to come into Raven's sight on the road. It was larger than some of the other caravans that Raven had seen, though really all it meant was that she had to wait longer for them all to pass. Dwarrow, as multiple dwarves preferred to be called, were usually fairly ignorant of their surroundings, and at least in that regard, Raven was lucky to have inherited Bilba's hobbit stealth. Still, she didn't want to take any risks of being caught because she had no way of knowing what would happen to her then.

Raven did not know the details about Bilba's adventure with the dwarrow but she didn't think that they were still on friendly terms. At least, that was the only reason Raven could think of for why she'd never met her father or the Company and why Bilba had never sought him out to help them. They'd had difficult winters before, and if Bilba was still friends with her dwarrow they should have come or she should have asked them for help. Moreover, when Raven had first told Bilba about the presence of dwarrow on the road the color had drained from Bilba's face. Raven knew that Bilba was afraid of nearly nothing, but while they welcomed Rangers and parties of elves, they hid from the dwarrow caravans that had become increasingly frequent.