Over the course of the next few weeks Bilba continued to get flashes, sometimes so powerful she could swear her family was physically there with her.

" Look, Sissy, look!!"

Bilba turned to look at Bungo, who was pointing toward a rabbit sitting on a nearby log. Every animal they saw excited the small boy as though he'd never seen one before. Half the time Bilba found herself chasing after him, trying to stop him from climbing down a hole after some rodent, or up a tree after a bird.

Nearby, her mother and father sat on a log, watching the sun rising over the stream they'd camped by. Her mother had her head on her father's shoulder and he had an arm wrapped around her.

The rabbit leapt off the log and bounded away and, with a shriek, Bungo ran after it, his hands outstretched to try and catch it. Bilba shook her head in exasperation and ran after him.

Honestly, how did he mange to make it so far on such short legs?

Camping under the stars, her mother pointing out different constellations.

"Do you see that star there, Bilba? That is the light of Earendil. He stands in the heavens as a star of hope to all the free peoples of Middle Earth. When we reach Rivendell we'll meet Lord Elrrond, his son."

Bilba shivered in delight, and moved closer to her mother. She couldn't believe she would soon meet the actual son of Earendil! He was a legend, someone who lived only in stories but soon she would meet a living legacy of his, in the flesh.

On her other side Bungo nestled against her, sound asleep, his small body a pleasant warmth through her clothing. Her father was already asleep, uninterested in staying up late to hear tales he'd heard a million times before.

Bilba, on the other hand, could not get enough of them.

"Tell me, again, of Earendil and how he slew the beast, Ancalagon?"

Her mother laughed. "Aren't you tired of hearing that one yet?"

"Never," Bilba said.

"All right," Belladonna replied, amusement in her voice. "It all began long ago--"

Bilba sighed and relaxed, listening drowsily as her mother's words lifted and blended with the smoke from the campfire.

Walking with her father through the woods to collect firewood, feeling so grown up at being asked to help.

"I'm proud of you Bilba."

Bilba stopped in surprise, turning to face her father. "What?"

He nodded, his arms full of branches and scraps of wood. "You've done an excellent job on this trip, helping reign in your brother."

"It's not a problem," Bilba said. "I'm just so excited to go."

He smiled. "I know you are. I'm glad to know I can count on you though."

He headed back to camp and Bilba followed after, her heart bursting with pride at his words.

Bungo ran ahead of her, feet taking him on yet another adventure of his own making.

Bilba couldn't really fault him. She'd been exactly the same at his age, constantly in search of what lay around the next bend.

"Bungo, slow down!" She laughed, running after him. "Wait for me!"

The only sound she got back was a scream of childish laughter.

He vanished through a clump of bushes.

She had little choice but to follow.

And, now, starting a day or so after they left, a new sound laced through all the memories. She hadn't understood it at first, had barely even been aware of it for it was far to quiet. The further along she went, however, the louder got, until its meaning was undeniable.

Rain on rocks, and the sound of her mother's wretched sobbing.

"Now who's the one brooding?"

Bilba started, jerking back to herself. Her eyes tore away from a tree she could remember helping Bungo climb, to see Thorin riding next to her. She hadn't spoken to him in nearly three days, since they'd left Bree.

"I do not brood," she said, parroting his words back at him.

He looked amused, but then his eyes cleared and looked grim. "You're remembering aren't you?"

Near her, Fili and Kili perked up, trying to listen in without being obvious.

Bilba stiffened. "Some. It comes in pieces as we go. I didn't think they would return this readily."

He nodded. "Perhaps it was never that you lost the memories, so much as you simply refused to look at them."

She hesitated, and then said. "Would you like to hear about them?"

She didn't know what madness drove her to ask, aside from the memories themselves leaving her with a sudden desparate desire to be close to her family in some form or fashion. Thorin didn't care about her, though, so what care could he possibly have for her lost family?

He continued to surprise her though by nodding.

"Okay." She tightened her grip on the reigns, and took a deep breath. "Bungo was my little brother. He was only a few years old, a child by any race's standards. He was so full of energy it was all I could do--"

She continued on. Fili and Kili moved in closer to hear and, soon, the others did also. Eventually Bilba found all the Dwarves, and even Gandalf, listening in as she described her family.

Her brother's energy, her father's quiet strenght, her mother's infectious laughter.

Through it all neither Thorin nor any of the others made so much as a sound. They just watched the passing scenery and let her talk.

Much later she would feel eternal gratitude toward them all for that afternoon, for giving her the chance to remember the happiness.

One final time.

Before the blood washed it all away.