I found myself glancing over at Bilbo every five seconds, finding his face to be quite amusing. Every now and again he would scrunch up his face and look wide-eyed down at the pony between his legs. It was a sturdy pony, with an auburn mane and pelt, walking at the same sauntering pace as the rest of us.

Glancing back at Bilbo, I tried to comfort him with a smile that I rarely gave to strangers. His lips turned up into a smile but he stopped immediately as his pony tossed her head and Bilbo clutched the reins, leaning back to avoid the whipping strands of hair that flew back towards his face which scrunched up once more.

I tried to stifle a laugh but only succeeded in snorting into the folds of my scarf, snickering before I caught my breath and looked up at the rode once more – pressing my lips together to keep the goofy smile from taking over my lips, as my chest burned with the laughing ache – and I occupied myself with watching the dwarves who started passing around bags of coins to the winners of the bet.

Gloin tossed a bag to Fili who caught it and turned to face me, holding up the bag for me to see and tossed it. I extended a hand and my heart race needlessly as I caught the bag just before it had a chance to slam into my face. It wasn't too heavy but I felt as though my contribution had been paid back along with quite a bit extra.

"One more!" Fili called and another bag was tossed to him and he stuffed it into his pocket.

"What's that about?" Bilbo asked, and I turned to see him looking up at Gandalf over my shoulder. I guessed this question was brought about by the passing chain of coin purses.

"Oh, they took wages on whether or not you'd turn up." Gandalf said and glanced at Bilbo in turn, "most of them bet that you wouldn't." Gandalf added, and Bilbo looked up at me, as if he wondered my place in this gambling debacle. In an answer I held up my small coin pouch and he nodded with a small "Ah".

"And what did you think?" Bilbo inquired of Gandalf who hummed, and hesitated for a moment before a small coin pouch flew over my head and into his outstretched hand with a clink of the contents.

Gandalf weighed it in his hands and chuckled, "My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second." Gandalf said cheerfully and Bilbo seemed to look a bit happier with this knowledge that Gandalf had so much faith in him. I turned to look ahead, absentmindedly making little braids in Milquetoast's tangled and wiry grey mane.

A loud – yet smothered – sneeze startled me, and I pulled a little too hard on the hair in my hands, but Milquetoast didn't seem to notice, seeing as his mane was so thick and tangled.

I looked over my shoulder to see Bilbo with his sleeve briefly to his nose and he sniffed. "Oh, all this horse hair; I'm having a reaction." Bilbo excused himself and started to explore the pockets on his red jacket, searching for something to blow his nose on, and he became a little frantic with every pocket he checked. "No, no, wait," he lifted his hand in the air shouting, "stop! Stop! We have to turn around." Bilbo said and the company halted. I swayed in my saddle and halted Milquetoast, gently tugging on the reins.

"What on earth is the matter?" Gandalf asked and I furrowed my brown, wondering as to the nature of our spontaneous halt.

"I've forgotten my handkerchief." Bilbo said, hurriedly searching through every pocket he possessed.

"Here," I looked up to see Bofur who took the bottom hem of his shirt in his hand and yanked, pulling a strip off the bottom. "use this!" he said and threw the piece of clothing to Bilbo who caught it and examine it – probably deciding that very moment it wasn't fit enough to spit on, and the others only laughed lightly at this.

"Move on!" Thorin called and the ponies started on again and I urged Milquetoast forward, looking up ahead but listening to Gandalf as he spoke to Bilbo.

"You'll have to manage without pocket handkerchiefs, and a great many other things, Bilbo Baggins, before we reach our journey's end." Gandalf spoke. "You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire, but home is now behind you, the world is ahead..."

For at least three hours we sauntered along, every now and again making conversation while the others teased me when I mixed up their names, confusing Ori with Oin and Bofur with Bifur. We passed under green canopies of sparse and dense woodlands alike, spotlights shining down from in-between the rounded leaves of aspens, threading between spindly branches and braided bird nests.

The sky was a bright blue that was often crossed by the avian wildlife of the Shire. There were robins and chickadees, that darted about. There was a group of crows and I pointed out the murder and the others found that somewhat funny that I was getting excited over birds. Every now and again I would find my eyes drifting over the green woods, seeing the flora and fauna coexisted together is a braid of equality and purity.

It didn't take long after that before we reached Bree and stopped for a moment, letting everyone restock on provisions that were wasted on the journey to Bilbo's home. Under the colorful cotton banners that provided shade while one bought or examined all the merchants and farmers had to offer. Food was stocked up and I paid for my share, before something caught my eye. There was a rack of pretty things such as beaded bracelets and gold chains, pendants and opals set in rose-gold or gems woven into graceful silver circlets. But these where not what had stolen my gaze and breath, but the white-gold pentacle that hung off a black leather cord.

"A sorceress charm!" I said in quiet awe as inside stepped the man at the stand, who had selected the sprigs and spices I had been buying. Reverently I extended my arm to finger the pendant, and I tried to seek out the magic I assumed would be hidden there.

"Is this all my lady?" The shop-keep asked and I hesitated but nodded slowly. The pentacle was not imbued with any kind of enchantment or leftover magic of a sorcerer, only a decorative pendant.

"Thank you." I nodded and took up the leather satchel and the man helped me place the cloth-wrapped bundles of sage, ginger root, cinnamon sticks, a wooden box of salt, and one of basil, along with a small glass jar of cloves. The smell was incredibly strong, if not a little discordant, but I bore it happily and informed Bombur of my choices.

By the end of the day, we had passed into the lone lands and the sky darkened as the sun sank below the trees that sounded us, shooting up like spires that soon turned dark and threatening as the shadow of a sunless nigh fell over the woodlands. With only a lone moon, and a handful of stardust to light our way – constantly interrupted by wisps of dark cloud – Thorin called us to a halt...