Raven: An Unexpected Adventure

Twenty-Five

Raven

Bag End, Hobbiton

11 January 2959

"Not today, mim ze." Dwalin dismissed her for the third day running. Raven glared up at the warrior, her practice sword in her hand.

The Party Field had been turned into a training ground. Currently, it was full of sparring dwarrow. The Company was there in full- all spread out and sparring in pairs or groups with the guards that Fíli had brought.

"But I want to train too," Raven protested.

"Not now, Lass, you're not a part of this." the warrior finally dignified her with a glance. The past few days Raven had let herself become distracted— sent on her way like some errant child.

"Why not? I'm a daughter of Durin, aren't I?" she glared at him. He responded with an infuriatingly indulgent smile.

"You are, but yer also a child." Dwalin insisted.

"He's right," Raven spun on her heel to see that Thorin had abandoned his own sparring session with Fíli.

"I'm sixteen, not a babe! And, anyways, aunty Dís says that I am old enough to have responsibilities when it comes to caring for our people." she protested.

"Responsibilities, aye, but that doesn't mean fighting. No matter what you say, you are just a babe." Dwalin retorted.

"What about self-defense?" Raven protested. "Aunt Dís fights, and even Ma can defend herself."

"And you will learn, but not right now." Thorin declared and Raven flinched. She glared at him and then turned on her heel and marched away from the field, her head held stubbornly high. She knew that eyes were on her— they would be until the round green door of her home closed behind her. Still, she would not flee nor would she slink. She had a right to be there. She wanted to fight alongside her people and, one day, they would let her. They had to.

"Raven, is that you?" The moment she pushed the door open she heard Bilba's voice.

"Yes, Ma!" she called back, changing her direction to head into the kitchen.

"Are you going to work on your studies?" Bilba asked, without looking up from the apple-hand pie that she was trimming.

Since coming to Hobbiton they'd both gained weight at an almost alarming rate. Raven was no longer thin, instead her figure was curvy now. Not plump like the other hobbits or dwarrow, but not as willowy as Tauriel's form either. Thinking about the amount of food, she felt the urge to do something. She should train, perhaps, or at least go for a walk but, instead, day after day she was trapped inside for "her own safety".

"I guess, Ma." Raven repeated dully, thinking of the school work ahead of her. Bilba looked up at Raven with a silent question. Usually, it was true, Raven loved her studies, but since the attack her drive had undeniably faded. Raven knew that her life was in transition. She and Bilba would not remain in Hobbiton forever- they would go with Thorin back to Erebor. When they did, she wanted to be prepared. Raven wanted to be learning dwarrow politics, practicing her Khuzdul, or training. All those activities would help her adjust to life in the Mountain. Instead, she was languishing in her old ways.

"Want to help me instead?" Bilba offered, bringing Raven back to the present, and she nodded eagerly. Making hand-pies at least meant she got time with Bilba instead of sitting alone in her room. Raven smiled as she moved to join Bilba. She had missed the time with Bilba and Aunt Primula.

The winter was still cold. If they were living in the smial then, she, Bilba, and Aunt Primula would likely be gathered around the stove. She'd be deep in her studies and they'd likely be cheery in spite of the weather. Now, when she had work to do she was left alone in her room. Baldur and Elsbur had studies to attend to as well, so they were all separated to "better focus on their work". It was true that they did have a habit of laughing on occasion, but Raven still thought it was stupid. She'd get no more work done sitting alone and miserable.