The pony's hooves made dull echoes of the drums beating painfully inside her head. The Lake was behind her now, and in front of her, stretching into the distance, the road led south for leagues and leagues. Eventually it disappeared over a slight rise, but that little curve was all she could see to vary the landscape around her.

Blank. Flat. Open. Exposed. Desolate. Billa Baggins longed for the rolling, green hills of her home in the Shire. The simple, cheerful folk who would no sooner ask her to walk into a dragon's lair than sprout wings and fly. Her own garden and armchair and books. But in a secret corner of her heart, the hobbit yearned for a different kind of home. Great stone halls, dim passageways , and pillars that stretched out of sight to an unseen ceiling.

No. The Mountain was never my home. Nor will it ever be. Billa conscientiously ignored the way her heart ached. Erebor is for the Dwarves. Clouds billowed angrily overhead, and her pony plodded on, completely undisturbed by the way her heart was breaking. Images surfaced in her mind that she wished she would never see again. She knew, though, knew that the nightmares would probably never stop. The memories were seared too deeply into her mind to just vanish. Fili and Kili, avoiding looking at her, both dismayed and angry. Dwalin, shoving her backward, away from the gate. Thorin's face, pale with shock and pain, anguished betrayal in his blue eyes as he slowly backed away from her.

"How could you do this to us? To him?" Dwalin had looked so furious; Billa had no doubt that he would attack her if she stayed any longer. She had tried to explain, tried to apologize. "Get out!" he had roared, brandishing his ax. "Get out and never come back! If I ever see you again, you'll be leaving in pieces!"

The gate had closed with a sound like death coming upon her. Gandalf had stopped her from pounding on the metal until her fists bled. Gandalf had stopped her from screaming herself hoarse at the battlements. Gandalf had stopped her from trying to drown herself in the stream. And Gandalf had acquired a pony for her and sent her home. She imagined there was disappointment in those old eyes.

Billa stared at her pony's ears, feeling like an empty snail shell. She could only pray that the unbearable space inside her would be filled up someday. Somehow.