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It really was only a matter of time before she finally snapped. The real surprise was that it had taken so long in the first place. As if it weren’t bad enough that his Majesty of Brooding and King of the Not So Subtle Insult was taking every opportunity to belittle and malign Bilbo as they walked through these cursed mountains. Really what did he expect? Hobbits spent their days walking but none of them, save maybe those queer ones to the South, ever came near mountains. Why would a race so small make themselves feel smaller by going near these colossal structures? For all dwarrow were sensibly sized compared to Men and Elves they were possibly thrice as thick and definitely lacking in sense.
But she could go on all day about the senselessness of dwarrow and the joys of being the center of such distinguished royal ire. Though it wouldn’t be a falsehood to suggest these combined to inspire her lashing out, it would not be the whole of it, nor would it be a satisfying recounting of current events. No, her outburst had far more to do with the two princelings and their interest in either turning her hair white or her face red, double the points should one or the other manage both at the same time.
Since leaving Rivendell the pair had been taking turns at playing with their burglar in order to break up the tedium of the daily trek. Apparently their shared experience with the trolls (read as their shared failure to keep and save a few ponies from a trio of mutton headed dunces) had endeared the little creature to them and they were now viewing her as an inductee into a new triad of madness and mayhem. At first it had been small. They’d walk with her and ask some less then appropriate questions about her self and hobbits in general. Though maybe invasive, easily passed off as curiosity and something she could entertain, even as her ears would burn when asked about the family sizes of the Shirelings, or courting rituals. At one point, however, she’d been so scandalized by their questions about her mother’s glory box she’d been reduced into a stuttering mess (though it was more Bofur’s idle comment about her own ‘glory box’ accompanied by an entirely inappropriate grin than the questions) that she refused to answer any more inquiries for the rest of the trip.
In hindsight, this also may have been the reason for the sudden shift from idle questions to active pranking. The first time Kíli made as if to fall over the edge of the mountain path with a quickly yelled, “Bilbo! Watch this!” she nearly went over after the lad, terrified for the young dwarf. It was only grumbling Bifur’s quick grasp on her arm that allowed Fíli’s chortling to register as a laughing Kíli was pulled back up to the path by Dwalin who promptly thumped the lad for trying to send the Burglar into an early grave. And though she was swift and severe in berating the ridiculous brothers there were too many muffled chuckles from the rest of the Company to douse this new form of entertainment. As a result she’d woken to various critters staring her down from the top of her bedroll, carried a good portion of the mountain in her pack for the better part of a day, been carried on the shoulders of the two ruffians over some terrifyingly steep and thin paths, and on this particularly notable occasion, woke on a precipice ten feet above the rest of the company.
She’d groaned as she’d heard her name being called, not fully registering the note of concern in it, rather, attributing it to a wake up call as she began to roll out of her bedding… to meet air! Her scream woke the rest of the company very swiftly as the two lads tried to support each other as they doubled over in laughter, watching her hang precariously from her recent perch. She yelped as her fingers gave way and she fell the rest of the way onto the unfortunate Ori who’d been trying to help her down. This just had the princelings laughing all the harder as Nori and Dori helped both their little brother and her back to their feet.
Looking at her personal Durin Banes she growled lowly, startling a side glance from Nori as he steadied her. Taking two steps to her left she grabbed up a handful of loose rock that had fallen after her desperate scrabbling and, taking swift aim, true the four sizable pieces straight for the cackling deviants. The first lashed right into the blonde’s nose with a resounding crack, knocking him back onto his arse. The next one rapped the flailing brunette in the thick forehead before careening off him and into his downed brother’s stomach. “Ah! Bilbo no!” came Kíli’s plea as the next two pummeled him first in the stomach, buckling the boy, and then in the scalp, cause a sharp cut as the lad fell next to his dazed brother, who’d begun to sit up again, nose gushing, only to have another rock bounce off his own hard forehead.
“Whoa now lassy!” Dwalin cried as he grabbed the fuming hobbit before she could fish another fist full of artillery from the ground. Óin shuffled over to the downed dwarrow to inspect the damage, muttering about ‘fool lads’ and ‘female wrath’. The rest of the dwarrow were in varying levels of shock and stupefaction. The only sounds to be had in the camp was Thorin as he was looking at his nephews, shaking his head back and forth, muttering something about someone named ‘Dís’ and how they should have known better, Balin had folded his face in his hand groaning over the future of Durin’s line, and Gloin was huffing a little off to the side fingering the locket that held his wife’s picture in it. The rest were looking at the apparently vicious little Hobbit they’d been harboring all this time.
It was a combination of the Company’s joint shock as well as Bofur loudly announcing, “Well! To think most o’ the lads thought you might not ‘ave had the stones for such a venture as this, aye lass?” that had a quick chuckle escaping her as she allowed herself to be shuffled over to Bombur as he began doling out breakfast, little Ori sidling up to her to ask about this ‘conkers’ game she was apparently so good at.