Chapter Text
Chapter 3: On the road (once more)
When Bilbo woke up, he spent a minute lying there in bed. The morning was silent, early enough that even the birds had not risen from their nests, and the morning rays of sunlight had yet to make their way through the windows. In this brief moment of silence, Bilbo could nearly forget what had happened the night prior. Well, nearly was the key word here.
The rumbling snores of the dwarves in the surrounding rooms broke that silence, and Bilbo struggled to stifle a laugh. The company, his company, was well and truly back. They were here, in his home, and they would be setting out on their adventure today. With a broad grin, Bilbo rose, and began to get ready for the day.
Already he had a bag packed, the very same one he had prepared before he even knew that he would be going again. Mentally running through the checklist of all he would need, Bilbo paused as a handkerchief hanging out of a drawer caught his eye. Fondly he picked it up, setting it gently in the top of his bag. The others had never let him live down his comment when leaving Bag End about not having one, though things would be quite different this time around he supposed. He also added to the bag his journal, along with a map or two of the regions they would be traveling through.
Getting dressed, he wore what he normally would, a white shirt, a dark green vest, and his tan trousers. His traveling cloak he would take for later, as it was much too warm to wear it inside. Casting one last look around his room to make sure he didn’t forget anything, he picked up his cloak and bag. Bilbo moved quietly through the house, careful not to wake any of his guests. By the door, he set his traveling gear, before bustling off to the kitchen.
His stomach had started to grumble, and far be it for him to not make one last proper meal before they had to go. That being said, there wasn’t much left in his pantry, due to the events of the prior night. But what sort of hobbit would he be if he couldn’t make something out of what he had, Bilbo mused. Most of the ready to eat foods were the ones that had taken the heaviest blow, but the raw materials seemed relatively untouched. With that in mind, Bilbo bustled about, pulling things out of the pantry, and laying them out. He still had a decent supply of eggs, so he could make those several different ways.
Going out into the garden he also was able to pick some of the vegetables he had growing, and add them to his supply of foods. Just around the back of the house, the berry bushes that grew there were ripe, so he added as many of those as he could carry to his growing stack of fresh foods.
Moving back into the house, Bilbo was surprised to see that Bombur was awake, and looking over the ingredients Bilbo had set out, quite curiously. When he saw Bilbo he quickly rushed to help lay out what Bilbo had taken from the garden.
“Good morning,” Bilbo greeted cheerfully.
“Good morning Master Baggins. May I help you with making breakfast?” Bombur questioned, gesturing at the start of the meal.
“Of course, but you must call me Bilbo,” The hobbit nodded, and together they worked to prepare the food. It was nice, Bilbo thought, to cook with someone again. He and his father used to cook together, and once or twice he and Frodo had baked a thing or two, but it had been far too long since either of those.
Shaking himself of his reminiscing, Bilbo took this opportunity to study the dwarf beside him. He regretted to say, he had never had a chance to grow too close to Bombur the first time around. They had shared the normal pleasantries of course, but for the life of him Bilbo couldn’t remember having a real conversation with him. He would change that, Bilbo resolved. However, there was no time this morning, as the dwarves began to wake up, likely drawn by the smell of the food cooking.
Fili and Kili were the first to trickle into the kitchen, and they rate quite enthusiastically. Cracking a grin, Bilbo wondered how he would have enough for all of them if the brothers ate at this rate. Turning his attention back to the food he had nearly let burn, he hurried to prepare some more eggs and bread, so that the others would still have food too.
Next were the Ri brothers, Ori, Nori, and Dori, followed by Dwalin and Balin. Then Bifur, Gloin, Oin, and Bofur. By then the kitchen and dining room were full again of the sound of laughter and other chatter.
It was no surprise though, that Thorin was the last one to arrive. Calm settled over the group, as all the dwarves turned to watch their leader.
“Pack up your gear, we leave as soon as possible,” He stated bluntly. With his worlds, the company rushed to secure their traveling packs. The air buzzed with excitement, seeming almost electrifying. The dwarves were energized, and ready to set out on their quest. The mountain was soon to be theirs again.
Bilbo meanwhile, his bag already packed, wiped down the kitchen, making sure everything was in his place. It would be a shame for it all to be split up again by time he came home. It had been a pain to track down all of his furniture, not that he was able to find it all again to begin with. Suddenly, inspired, Bilbo rushed to his study, rapidly scrawling out a note, stating that he would be gone for some time, and that he would be back. If he didn’t make it back, he added a statement saying that Bag End would go to Drogo. With a flourish, he signed his name. Looking over it, he gave a nod, and hurried back to the living room.
The others were still gathering themselves, but Bilbo picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. The portraits of his mother and father caught his eye, drawing him to them. What would they think now, seeing him rush off into adventure again. His mother had her own share of adventures, though none on the scale of this one. His father on the other hand had been very opposed to this whole adventuring thing. He was a Baggins after all, and it was a small miracle that he had fallen for a Took such as his mother.
He found himself so deep in thought, that he didn’t notice Balin move to stand next to him. As it was, Balin started speaking, and Bilbo jumped a little.
“Who are these?” He questioned, gesturing to the portraits.
“My mother and father. This was their house, you know. My father built it himself as a gift to my mother.” Bilbo trailed off. Balin though prompted him to go on. “Her name was Belladonna. She was a fair bit more adventurous than Bungo, my father. She would have been quite proud, I think, that I’m getting out of the house.”
“And your father?”
“Oh goodness! He would greatly dislike all this talk of adventure. He was a Baggins through and through. Very respectable Baggins are.” Bilbo nodded. “Or, at least we used to be,” With that the hobbit moved away, casting one last look around the smiel.
Hiking his bag back up onto his shoulder, Bilbo marched outside, waiting for the others to join him on the front porch. On the door he put his letter, fixing it so that if anyone came calling, they would see it right away. Once they were all gathered, he locked the door, and placed the key under the mat. With that, they were on their way.
Dwalin had left after breakfast, fetching the ponies that they would ride. When offered his own, Bilbo swung up onto it with a confidence that startled the others. To that he just shrugged. Setting out, they must have been quite the odd sight. Thirteen dwarves and a hobbit making a precession down the road. Several heads popped out of windows and doors to watch, all sense of politeness gone as they stated transfixed, several jaws hanging open in shock.
“Mr. Bilbo, where are you off to?” Worrywort questioned, stepping out into his garden to question Bilbo. Living up to his name, he had served to look after Bilbo in the past, always worrying about him, and although he had appreciated it before, he was quite anxious to get on with the journey. Thorin and the rest watched curiously as Bilbo stopped to talk to his neighbor.
“I am going on an adventure. We are already nearly late, so I fear I don’t have much time to explain. It might be some time before I get back. I will come back though! Don’t let Lobetia steal the silverware,” The hobbit explained, adding on the last bit as an afterthought. He was done with Lobetia, her nosiness, and her tendency to try and make off with the good silverware. Bilbo still thought that he didn’t get everything back from her the first time around. The rest of the group exchanged looks, curious as to who this Lobetia he spoke of was, but no one was willing to bring it up.
As they left the shire, Bilbo turned, taking in the view a final time. Although a part of him felt saddened to leave his home once again, there are more important things out there, or so he reasoned. Turning back to move onwards Bilbo thought he saw Thorin watching him. Just as quickly as Bilbo realized that though, Thorin turned away, pushing his horse into the lead at the front of the train. Shaking his head, Bilbo internally remarked on the absurd manner of dwarves. That was one thing that never seemed to change, and that would endlessly puzzle Bilbo.
Onwards they went, crossing streams and through the forest. It wasn’t until they were quite a ways out shire that Bilbo let out a sneeze, startling the dwarves around him.
“Oh, all this horse hair. I'm having a reaction,” Bilbo remarked cheerfully, pulling out a handkerchief to blow his nose, quite proud of himself for having remembered it. A few of the dwarves shook their heads, but no one seemed to have anything to say to that.
They traveled for hours, stopping briefly at midday to have a quick meal, before getting back on the road. When they finally stopped for the night, the sun was already dipping below the horizon. As the dwarves scrambled to set up camp, Bilbo snuck over to his horse, and apple in hand. He had quite missed spoiling that horse.
“And how are you fairing Mister Baggins,” Gandalf questioned, seemingly having materialized out of nowhere. That was the way with wizards though, and Bilbo shrugged it off. He knew Gandalf was to come and go many times over these next few months.
“Quite well, I should think. I have no doubt that I will question myself later, wondering what in the world I was thinking. Right now however, I feel quite pleased with myself.”
“Just remember Bilbo, your home is now behind you; the world is ahead. Try not to look back too much,” Gandalf mused. From under the brim of his hat, he studied the hobbit before him, causing Bilbo to shift uncomfortably. Gandalf might not know what it was that was off, but it was clear he knew something was off. Thankfully, he did not say anything, instead giving Bilbo a nod, before stalking off to likely find Thorin.
That night, the dwarves huddled around the campfire, laughing as they ate their evening meal. Fili and Kili seemed to be recounting a tale to Ori, their gestures big and wild, though Bilbo was too far away to hear the words they spoke. Thorin sat a distance away from them all, gazing out over the open countryside.
Even when he was brooding he still had a regal air to him, Bilbo thought. However, this Thorin still very much thought Bilbo had no place in this company. He would have to do something about that sooner or later, Bilbo didn’t think he would be able to stand this distance and silence between them much longer.
By then the sun had completely set, the first stars already twinkling in the sky. A howl sounded through the night, the sound sending a chill up his spine. He knew that the howling was wargs, but there was a part of him that would always think of wolves. It was irrational, his fear of wolves. One hobbit alone, in the middle of winter, was a target. Bilbo however, was surrounded by dwarves, and the sheer number of them would deter any wolves who thought to attack. But it was not winter, and as such any wolves had plenty of food elsewhere.
The conversations around the campfire had quieted, and Bilbo took note that several of the dwarves, including Dwalin, had their hands resting on their weapons. Not to draw them, but as a reassurance it seemed. Bilbo suddenly felt very aware of the way he had curled in on himself, his arms around his knees. Forcing himself to sit back upright again, he felt his cheeks and ears heat up, likely turning a shade of red Bilbo hoped wasn’t visible in the dim lighting..
Kili and Fili were the ones to move towards Bilbo, concerned about their newly acquired burglar.
“You good?” Fili questioned, sitting down next to Bilbo, and bumping Bilbo’s shoulder with his own.
“Of course! Just- the howling is a little too similar to a wolves,” The hobbit admitted, drawing his cloak a little tighter around himself, and crossing his arms.
“Good thing it's not a wolf! That's a warg!” Kili interjected a tad too cheerfully. He let out a noise of complaint when his brother shoved an elbow into his side, throwing a glance at Thorin, who had stalked farther away from the group. The rest of the dwarves in the company seemed to take note of that, giving him his space. Balin though had also overheard Kili, and joined them.
“Hush now, you know that Thorin has his reasons for hating orcs,” Balin reprimanded the brothers quietly. Turning to Bilbo, he explained. “His grandfather was killed by orcs, and his brother too. One orc in particular, the white orc, Azog. Thorin killed him, shielded with nothing but a large oak branch. That's how he got that name,”
Bilbo had never heard much about Thorin’s brother, and itched to ask more, but now was clearly not the time. Retiring to his bed roll, Bilbo attempted to sleep, lying awake for a long time, before drifting off into uneasy sleep.
The next day they set out early, storm clouds following them the whole way, looming ominous on the horizon. It wasn’t until about midday that they hit though, soaking them all to the bone. Onwards though they moved. Moral was at a low though, and it wasn’t long before the dwarves began to grumble
“Gandalf, can’t you do something about this deluge,” Gloin was the first to add voice to his complaining.
“It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard,” Gandalf huffed, as rivets of water streamed off the brim of his wide hat.
“Could any of them?” Bilbo pondered, trying to think of the wizards he had met.
“Hm?”
“Any of the other Wizards. Would they change the weather?” Bilbo prompted.
“Well, there are five of us wizards. The greatest of our order is Saruman the White, he would not bother I would think. Like me, he knows there are better things to be doing with his time, and his power. Then there are the two blue wizards. You know, I've quite forgotten their names.”
“And the fifth?” Gloin added himself back into the conversation.
“Well, that would be Radagast the Brown.” Gandalf replied, his eyebrows raising, compelling someone to ask more about him.
“And?” Bilbo was more than happy to ask. He only remembered Radagast a little, knowing him to be nervous and twitchy, although deeply loving of his animals and nature.
“He is a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others,” Gandalf mused. “He would not change the weather for any of us master dwarf, but instead maybe if it was a danger to his animals he might be compelled,”
“And where is he now?” Gloin questioned once more.
“He keeps a watchful eye to the vast forest lands to the east, and a good thing too, for always evil will look to find a foothold in this world,”
With that, the company had silence, moving slowly through the rain, though not stopping. Eventually, the path grew muddy and thick, and the rain slowly ceased.
“We’ll camp here for the night.” Thorin stopped the procession absurdly, swinging off his pony, already giving orders. “Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them,” Smoothly and efficiently the dwarves followed suit, moving to get the campsite prepared.
“A farmer and his family used to live here,” Gandalf mumbled, casting his gaze around the crumbled stones that littered the clearing. Bilbo hurried to unpack his own pony, casting a glance around the campsite. This was it, he remembered. This was where they had encountered the trolls.
A plan formulating, Bilbo wandered to the woods near the end of camp, in the opposite direction of where he knew the trolls would be of course, searching.
Meanwhile behind him, he heard Thorin give orders to set up the rest of the camp. Then, he heard the distinct tones of Gandalf arguing. Last time there had been some sort of argument about going to Rivendell, and so he assumed it would be similar this time.
Just as he found what he was looking for though, shoving them into his pockets, Gandalf started storming off.
“Everything all right? Gandalf, where are you going?” Bilbo scrambled to follow the wizard, but was shooed away.
“To seek the company of the only one around here who’s got any sense,”
“And who’s that?” Bilbo questioned, frantically thinking of how to get the darn wizard to listen- to stay-
“Myself, Mr. Baggins! I've had enough of dwarves for one day!” Gandalf left, ignoring as Bilbo shouted after him. A heavy feeling took over Bilbo’s stomach. He had a plan, but one that was lacking. He would have much preferred the wizard to be there, though it seemed he would be on his own for this one. He turned back to the camp, where Bombur was already preparing dinner. Silently, Bilbo began to help, fighting back the uneasy feeling that slowly overtook him.
“Are you feeling alright Bilbo?” Bombur questioned. “You are looking a bit pale.”
“I'm quite alright, thanks. I’ll go take these to Fili and Kili,” Bilbo stood abruptly, taking the food and dashing, his heart pounding.
Fili and Kili, as he knew they would be, were nervous, and quick to pull him into their scheme. Taking the food from him, they showed him the missing ponies, and the path that led to where the trolls would be.
“We don’t want to worry Thorin. I mean, as our official burglar, we thought that you might like to look into it,” Fili tried.
“Something very big and possibly quite dangerous caused this. I- well- just follow me, and be quiet,” Bilbo decided, creeping quietly towards the light of the trolls campfire.
“Trolls,” Kili breathed, his eyes wide as he gazed at the three trolls in the clearing.
“I see Myrtle and Minty! It looks like they are planning to eat them- I guess we will have to do something about that,” Bilbo observed, smoothing his waistcoat.
“Yes, you should. Mountain Trolls are slow and stupid, and you’re so small,” Fili reminded Bilbo.
“I rather think I will. You two need to go back to camp and tell someone. Better yet, try and find Gandalf.” The hobbit instructed.
Ignoring the conversation of the trolls, Bilbo crept around them, careful to not get too close and make the same mistake he did last time. Creeping close to the edge of the pot, he threw into it what he had found earlier. Satisfied with his efforts he began to creep away.
“Hey- what's that?” One called, and Bilbo froze, turning slowly to find all the trolls looking at him.
“I don’t know, but e’ has arms and legs and everything,” Another said. Tom, if Bilbo’s memory served correct. Eyes wide, Bilbo frantically glanced between all the trolls, eyes widened with fright, before turning and trying to run. He was too slow though, and soon found himself in the grasp of the trolls once more.
Wiggling in the hands of the troll, Bilbo managed to grab out a dagger from his side, stabbing it into the trolls fingers.
“Argg!” Tom cried, smacking the dagger out of Bilbo’s hand, though not dropping the hobbit. “Wha’da do that for?”
“What kinda creature are you then, with your sharp things? An oversized squirrel?” The third troll, William, questioned, unsympathetic to the plight of Tom.
“I’ll let you know I’m a hobbit, thank you very much!”
“A Hobbit?” Tom turned to the other trolls, scratching his head. “Can you eat a Hobbit?”
“We can try!” William grinned, baring his rotting teeth, and his breath sending out a foul stench of rotting animals and toxic fumes so bad Bilbo was shocked he didn’t pass out from the smell alone.
“He wouldn’t make more than a mouthful, not when he’s skinned and boned!”
“Perhaps there are more around these parts. Might be enough for a pie!” William turned his gaze to the forest around the clearing, looking as though he expected more to just stream out of the darkness.
“Are there any more of you little fellows hiding where you shouldn’t?” Tom poked Bilbo.
“No, not at all. You wouldn’t want to eat me at all though, not when you have stew cooking. Looks quite good that…” Bilbo tried, and the trolls exchanged a suspicious look.
“Maybe we could add ‘em to the stew?” William questioned hopefully.
Tom blundered over to the pot, and reached for the ladle. Bilbo held his breath as the troll carefully tried a bit of the stew.
“Bert, what ya added to this didn’t make it half bad,” He remarked. Bert roughly snatched the ladle, trying it also.
“It didn't taste like this a minute ago-” He started suspiciously. William, feeling left out, tried his own bite of the stew.
“I still say we add ‘em to it,” William spoke around his mouthful of the stew. Bilbo though, despite still being in the grasp of the trolls, was feeling more hopeful by the minute. If his plan actually worked-
“I don’t-” Tom started, staggering from side to side, shaking the hobbit about. It wasn’t long before he was on the ground, his fist releasing Bilbo, sending him tumbling through the leaves on the ground. Bert and William followed soon after, thudding down onto the forest floor, knocking over the pot of stew as they went. Quickly Bilbo scrambled away, a relieved smile already growing on his face.
“What happened here?” A voice questioned from behind him. Turning, Bilbo saw the company, weapons drawn and at the ready. The person who spoke, Thorin, was just as befuddled as the rest of the dwarves.
“Belladonna I think. Or, at least another plant in the nightshade in that family. I didn’t quite recognize the exact plant, but it did the job,” Bilbo grimaced, picking through the stew, to then hold up one of the leaves he had dropped into the stew prior.
“Hobbits, quite remarkable I told you,” Gandalf mentioned approvingly, appearing behind them all.
“Where did you go to, if I may ask,” Thorin turned his wrath onto the wizard.
“To look ahead,” The wizard offered a shrug.
“What brought you back?”
“Looking behind,” Gandalf nodded, as if that explained everything. “They must have come down from Ettenmoore” He mused, tapping one of the fallen trolls with his staff, before continuing to circle around them.
“Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?” Thorin turned to Gandalf, drilling him for any possible answer.
“Oh, not for an age. Not since a darker power ruled these lands. In any case, they could not have moved in daylight,”
“There must be a cave nearby,” The dwarf decided, turning to go search the trees for the supposed cave. The rest of the dwarves fanned out, methodically looking for the cave, and the hoard that lay within. Bilbo, recalling the location, had hurried ahead. Now he gave a shout, calling their attention to the cave.
Cautiously they approached it, recoiling and wrinkling their noses at the horrid rotting smell emitting from the hole. Ironically, Bilbo thought to himself that this cave was the exact opposite of everything a good hobbit hole was.
“What’s that stench?” Kili made a face, kicking a pile of dirt, to reveal bones that made a sickening crunch at the contact.
“It’s a troll hoard. Be careful what you touch,” Gandalf warned, plowing forward into the cave.
“Seems a shame to leave it lying around. Anyone could take it.” Fili remarked, smirking at his brother as he showed off a handful of coins. Scattering the floor there were many such piles, loot taken from the troll’s prior victims.
“Agreed. Oin, get a shovel,” Gloin commanded the dwarf.
As the others looked for, and buried their treasure, Bilbo searched for something else. Gingerly moving around piles of the composting floor, a glint of metal hidden confirmed that he had found it. Gingerly picking it up, he dusted it off.
“Sting, old friend, good to see you again,” Bilbo muttered. He would feel much better on this journey having the sword at his side.
“Bilbo, I see you have found yourself a sword,” Gandalf remarked, assessing Sting.
“Yes, I know it isn't very much of a sword, but it seemed about my size,” Bilbo responded dryly.
“The blade appears to be of Elvish make, which means it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are nearby,” Gandalf
“A very good quality for a sword to have,” Bilbo strapped the sword onto his belt, the familiar weight already making him feel more comfortable.
“Now that you are armed, I would have you remember this. True courage is about knowing
not when to take a life, but when to spare one,” The familiar words rang in Bilbo’s ears, and he had to fight to keep a steady face. Now, being able to look back, he knew that the advice Gandalf gave was to be used for Gollum, yet even thinking of the creature made him sick. Frodo had told him that in the end Gollum had played a role in the destruction of the one ring, and yet, he had also caused so much pain.
After the troll hoard, they moved on, not getting far before it was decided they would make camp again. The other dwarves seemed a bit warmer to Bilbo after the incident with the trolls. They all seemed impressed by his choice with the poison, and even more so at the bravery Fili and Kili had related. Kili had stayed behind to watch the whole thing, as Fili went and fetched the others, and as such was more than willing to relay the story of Bilbo stabbing the troll, and then tricking him into eating the stew.
That night, Bilbo had a nightmare. He dreamed of the deaths of Thorin and his nephews. The sickening crack of Fili hitting the ground. The cries of Kili, and his last gasp of air as he gets impaled by an orc blade. Last but not least, there was Thorin- Thorin dying in his arms. A pool of blood forming around him, staining the ice and snow as Bilbo hugged him tight. It was like he was there again, the noises, the colors- it was too much. A scream tearing from his throat, his hands pulling away from the now still dwarf, red and sticky with blood, so much blood-
Bilbo woke up with a cry, Dori at his side, concern flooding his face. Heaving in and out deep breaths of the cool night air, Bilbo pushed Dori away, standing shakenly, his eyes searching, searching for-
There, by the dying fire. Kili and Fili slept in a huddle, Thorin next to them. He could see the soft rise and fall of their sides, deep in sleep. They were alive, and very much not bleeding out before him. They were safe- he was safe- he-
“Are you alright Master Baggins?” Dori questioned, not seeming offended by Bilbo’s erratic nature, rather instead, quite concerned.
“Nothing- I just-”
“Aye, nightmares?” Dori questioned, guiding Bilbo back to his sleep roll. “Only natural after the trolls last night. Those nasty creatures are foul enough to give the terrors to anyone,”
“Right, yes, the trolls,” Bilbo quickly agreed, not meeting Dori’s eyes.
“You know, Ori gets nightmares sometimes,” Dori confided, sitting down next to Bilbo on the ground. “Nori too. They try not to show it, but I’m their brother, I'm here for them,” He softly smiled. “I’m here for you too Master Baggins. I can sit here till you fall asleep again if you want. I still have an hour or two in my watch,”
“Please, call me Bilbo- and, well, that would be nice.”
“I’ll call you Bilbo if you call me Dori,” The older dwarf grinned.
“Deal. Thank you Dori,”
If anyone noticed anything off about Bilbo the next morning, they didn’t say anything. Despite the excitement of yesterday, the morning went quite the same as the ones before it. They rate, packed up, and were on the road once more. It wasn’t until Bilbo heard the sound of someone rushing through the forest, that he remembered there was more excitement to come.
“Something’s coming,” Thorin stopped the train, unsheathing his newly acquired sword.
“Thieves! Fire! Murder!” Radagast burst out of the forest, his hat crooked, and beard matter with twigs and leaves.
“Radagast! It’s Radagast the brown!” Gandalf exclaimed, dismounting to rush forward and greet his friend. The rest of the company shifted awkwardly, unsure what to make of the new wizard.
“The Greenwood is sick, Gandalf. A darkness has fallen over it. Nothing grows anymore, at least nothing good. The air is foul with decay. But worse are the webs,” Radagast rushed, his words tripping over one another.
“Webs? What do you mean?”
“Spiders, Gandalf, giant ones. Some kind of spawn of Ungoliant, or I am not a wizard. I followed their trail. They came from Dol Gulder.” The brown wizard twitched, pulling a squirrel from his hat and petting it nervously.
“Dol Gulder? But the old fortress is abandoned.”
“No Gandalf, it is not,” Radagast fixed Gandalf with a wide eyed stare, slowly putting the squirrel on his shoulder. “A dark power dwells in there, such as I have never felt before. It is the shadow of an ancient horror. One that can summon the spirits of the dead.”
“A necromancer, are you sure?” Gandalf stoked his beard, apparently deep in thought.
“That is not from the world of the living,” Radagast pulled out a wrapped bundle, handing it to Gandalf. No sooner than he took it, a howl rang through the air. Wargs.
“War scouts! Which means an Orc pack is not far behind!” Thorin held his sword at the ready, and everyone followed suit.
“Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?” Gandalf thundered.
“No one,” Thorin growled as the wizard backed him against a tree.
“Who did you tell!”
“No one, I swear. What in Durin’s name is going on?”
“You are being hunted!” Gandalf backed up, and started urging the dwarves to start moving.
“We have to get out of here,”
“We can’t! Er have no ponies, they’ve bolted!” Gloin shouted, pointing down the trail to where the last of the ponies tails could be seen vanishing.
“I’ll draw them off,” Radagast declared, turning back to face the direction the wargs would come from.
“Come on,” Gandalf spurred them into action. “Stay together,”
What followed was a blur of running and yelling. Bilbo struggled to keep up as the dwarves sprinted, leading out into all to familiar plains. The wargs were right on them, then they weren’t. Radagast sped by in his sled, and the dwarves continued to run. It wasn’t long before the dwarves ducked into the little ravine, out of breath, and frightened.
“We’re surrounded!” Fili gasped, his dual swords in his hands, ready for action.
“Where is Gandalf?” Kili questioned, searching the surrounding area.
“Has he abandoned us?”
“Hold your ground!” Thorin commanded as the howls grew nearer.
“This way you fools!” Gandalf appeared a bit farther down the ravine, beaconing for the dwarves to follow his lead, which they did gladly.
“All of you, go, go!” Thorin hollered.
“I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it or not?” Dwalin boomed, already plowing forward.
“Follow it, of course!” Fili followed Dwalin, with Kili right on his heels.
“I think that would be wise,” Gandalf inclined his head smugly, before resuming his head count on the dwarves before him, muttering their names under his breath as they went.
On and on the pathway twisted, and the farther they got, the bigger the smile grew on Bilbo’s face.
“You can feel it?” Gandalf questioned, moving to walk beside the hobbit.
“Yes. It feels like- well, like magic,”
“That's exactly what it is. A very powerful magic,” He gave a nod, a smile of his own gracing his face.
“There is light ahead!” The call was echoed down the line, and the dwarves eagerly rushed to be free of the closing walls.
“The valley of Imraldis. In the Common Tongue, it’s known by another name,”
“Rivendell,” Bilbo breathed in the scent of the trees, basking in the golden glow of the valley. It had seemed like a lifetime ago that Bilbo had been able to greet the halls of Rivendell.
“Here lies the last homely house east of the sea,” Gandalf declared, his words echoing with a sense of finality, before settling gently upon the air.