Chapter Text
There was a melancholy silence surrounding some of the party as they left the Last Homely House. While the dwarves were positively cheerful, the hobbits were decidedly not. On top of this, it had been agreed that while Lobelia’s new pet was absolutely delightful, he couldn’t continue on with the rest of the group, for his own safety. If Thorin looked relieved at this, everyone thought it best to politely ignore it. Prim's warg had also been left behind, though the lass had extracted sincere promises that her Princess would not be hurt, on pain of death.
Bilbo wasn’t helping to lift the mood.
After his confrontation with Thorin, barely anyone saw him. He had spent the day before their departure skulking around Rivendell and abruptly changing direction whenever he heard anyone coming. Even the hobbits hadn’t been able to talk to him. Even after meeting up with the rest of the group to depart, he had kept to himself unless absolutely necessary.
The only reason that anyone knew anything at all about what happened was thanks to Nori. As usual, he was making himself useful by listening in on anything he could, especially when he wasn’t supposed to. He’d heard Thorin and Bilbo’s raised voices from a corridor over, and while he missed hearing Elrond’s conversation with Bilbo, he certainly caught everything else. Naturally, he quickly passed this information on to his brothers, who passed it on to Balin, who told everyone.
For a fantastic advisor, Balin really had an issue with gossiping.
Tensions continued to simmer as the hobbits simultaneously tried to cheer up themselves and their leader. Lobelia even stopped pick-pocketing the dwarves for fun, in the hopes that good behaviour would break Bilbo out of his mood.
Things only got worse, as the path gradually got worse, giving way to bare rock. While the hobbits’ feet were sturdy enough to avoid being cut, the rocks still felt extremely uncomfortable. Then, the rain started.
“It’s bad enough we can’t take a sensible path through the mountain pass, but now we have this blasted weather to contend with?” Drogo moaned, for perhaps the fiftieth time.
In response, Frerin’s shoulders climbed further up his neck. Several money pouches traded hands as some others bet on how long it would take for Frerin to snap.
“I mean, really. Whose idea was it to go this way?” Drogo added on morosely as a raindrop rolled off of his nose.
“SHUT UP!” Frerin’s temper finally bubbled over as he rounded on the fussy hobbit.
Drogo leapt back with a yelp, knocking into Ori behind him, which in turn set Dori off. Within moments, chaos reigned, with everyone complaining about everyone else. It took what felt like an age for tempers to simmer down, by which time the rain had progressed to an all-out thunderstorm. Drogo looked up, opened his mouth to make another comment, then saw Frerin’s glower. He wisely shut his mouth this time.
They were all so weary and distracted that it took them a minute to notice the slow movement of the very stone beneath their feet. It was only a tremor of Bofur’s stone-sense, causing him to call out a warning that prevented complete disaster.
“Bless my beard – stone giants!” He shouted, straining to be heard over the pounding rain. The fear rippled out amongst the group like a shockwave, causing another panic. As they milled around, trying to steady themselves and get away from the edge, half of the group found themselves moving as another giant materialised out of the stone beneath their feet.
Thinking quickly, most of the hobbits lunged across the gap before it had gotten too wide, but half of the dwarves weren’t quick enough. Thanks to his bleak mood and distant mind, Bilbo’s reaction time was too slow as well. In terror, the dwarves and one hobbit were lifted clear away from the relative safety of the mountainside.
While the hobbits cried out for their leader, their response was nothing compared to Kili. As Fili was lifted away from him, he let out a scream that pierced through even the howling winds. Vili clutched at the back of his youngest son’s coat as though to stop him jumping after his brother. His free hand was white around the handle of his spear as he watched his wife get carried away as well as his oldest.
In a stroke of luck, the giant’s knee suddenly approached the cliff where the others still cowered in shock. With a very short window of time for them to get from one ledge to the other before they were crushed against the mountain, the trapped group had to jump. Almost as one, the dwarves took a leap of faith into the waiting arms of the company. Bilbo, still not quite himself, took a millisecond longer to react. Though his Shirelings reached out for him, his slower response and their shorter arms meant disaster.
Bilbo felt his fingers brush past Hamfast and Rorimac’s to no avail. Realisation snapped to the forefront of Bilbo’s mind, and he closed his eyes, awaiting his end. Hopefully it would at least be quick. As the thought flitted through his mind, he jerked to a halt, his shoulder popping out of the socket with the sudden strain.
Daring to open his eyes, Bilbo looked up. Leaf-green eyes snapped to brown in surprise. Bofur had a hold of Bilbo’s wrist, looking as surprised as the hobbit that he’d managed to catch him. Huffing, Bofur tried to pull Bilbo up, only to stop in a panic as his movement made him slip forwards slightly.
They were at an impasse. Bilbo had no strength to swing himself further up, his limbs turned to jelly with the fear. Bofur couldn’t move without slipping down into the canyon after Bilbo, though the dwarves were trying to hold the miner in place. Bilbo chanced moving slightly to adjust his sweaty grip.
It was the wrong move.
The adjustment allowed Bilbo’s dead-weight to slide his hand right out of Bofur’s grip. Bofur’s gritted teeth and determined expression turned into one of horror as Bilbo once more faced his certain death.
Before he could fall, another hand grabbed his, and an arm came around him, pushing him bodily towards the ledge, and safety. Without a care for his saviour, Bilbo’s mind finally caught up to the proceedings, and he scrabbled frantically for the ledge. This time, his momentum allowed him to grip the rock itself, and hands came from everywhere to haul him up.
Bilbo scrambled to his feet, peering over the edge to see who his saviour was. To his shock, it was Thorin who now hung precariously in his place. Despite the dwarf’s greater strength, Bilbo’s scrambling had knocked the king backwards. All that held him on were four fingers, the other hand scrabbling fruitlessly at the slick rock.
With a gusty sigh, Dwalin threw his axe at his brother before leaping down the cliff face after his king. Better prepared than Bilbo or Thorin, Dwalin easily shoved Thorin up enough for him to haul himself up, before pulling himself up as well. Despite the rain, the two dwarves simply lay on solid ground for a second before rolling to their feet.
Thorin spared a second to slam his forehead against his cousin’s in thanks before turning to face the hobbit who’d almost caused the death of not one, but three, members of the Company. Rage consumed him.
The other hobbits had huddled around their leader, fussing heartily over him. As Bilbo saw Thorin over their shoulders, he straightened with a purposeful look in his eyes.
“Are you alright?” He asked sincerely, sounding like himself for the first time since Rivendell.
“Am I alright?” Thorin asked, dumbfounded.
Sensing trouble, Bofur stepped in smartly. “And yourself Master Baggins! Are you okay? I thought we’d lost you!”
“The halfling has been lost ever since he stumbled out of his door.” Thorin sneered, undeterred. “Him and his little bunch of elf-lovers! They ought to go back to where they came from, before they cause any more near-death experiences. Next time we might not be so lucky.”
The group had stilled around them. No-one moved. Tension mounted, until Dwalin broke it in his usual gruff way. “Shelter. Otherwise, we’ll have more than the drop to be worried over.”
It took a few seconds, but soon the party was on its way once more. Uneasy silence filled the air.
For once, luck seemed to be on their side. Only a few feet along the path, Bofur’s sharp stone-sense picked out a gap in the rock. They all wasted no time in squeezing in. For anyone larger than the hobbits and dwarves, the cave entrance would have been far too small.
The entire group swarmed into the cave, shaking off their outer layers in a vain attempt to dry off. Hope rose as Bombur produced his trusty tinderbox, only to be quashed by Thorin’s sharp dissent. Several mutinous mutters rose, but sound abruptly broke off when Thorin spun around to face them all with yet another snarl.
“Piss off, dickhead.” Muttered a voice which sounded suspiciously like Prim.
Slowly, everyone began to gather into their family groups, huddling together and shivering miserably. Lobelia however, only had eyes for her leader. Shrewdly, she watched as Bilbo forewent the cold supper being passed around by Bombur, and shied away from Drogo as he went to pat his cousin on the shoulder. She noted Bilbo pulling away from them all, and, channelling her dear departed mother, went about fixing the problem.
As the dwarves bedded down, and Bofur took up his position on first watch, she signalled the Hobbits. Quietly, relying on Bilbo’s still listless state, they gathered around him. Quick as a viper, Lobelia lashed out, slapping her cousin across the face and clapping her other hand across his mouth to silence his shout.
“Save the pissy look, cousin.” She snapped at him quietly. Over their shoulders, Thorin roused slightly, watching the group suspiciously through the gloom. “You need to snap out of whatever state you’re in.” Lobelia said simply, crossing her arms and rubbing at her biceps in an uncharacteristic display of nerves.
“You’ve not been yourself since that meeting with Elrond.” Otho added, shooting a concerned glance at his wife.
“Bilbo, you know that I love you like a brother. But this isn’t fair. We’ve followed you all this way because we believe in you and trust your leadership. You can’t pull away from us like this.” Drogo’s voice was mild, as it usually was, but for the first time held a hint of the steel shared by Bilbo at his most serious. It was so rare for the younger hobbit to speak so bluntly that it almost seemed to work at snapping Bilbo out of it.
Bilbo’s glare wavered, and he huffed. Without a glance at his friends and relatives, he stood and made his way towards the cave entrance. It was again testament to his mental state that he seemed to have forgotten Bofur. The other hobbits followed him, which caused another problem entirely.
“Woah, woah! Where do you all think you’re going?” Bofur whispered urgently.
“No, don’t worry we-” Esmerelda tried to explain, only to be cut off by Bilbo.
“Back to Rivendell.” Bilbo snapped, cutting her off.
The hobbits began to protest, pulling at Bilbo’s coat as he shook them off.
“No, you can’t turn back now, you’re all part of the Company!” Bofur protested, jumping from his seated position.
“We aren’t though, are we?” Bilbo asked mildly, looking at his hobbits with a sad smile. “Thorin said we shouldn’t have followed you all and he was right. I’m the Grand-master Baggins, I should have never run out of my door. I’m putting my people in danger, it’s selfish.”
The fight left the hobbits, and they all looked at one another, uncertain. Thorin shifted from his lying position, sitting up slightly to hear better.
“Oohh, you’re homesick! I understand that!” Bofur smiled brightly.
“No, you don’t! You can’t understand, none of you could! You’re dwarves, you’re used to living on the road, never stopping or settling in one place. You’re used to not belonging.” The hobbits rounded on Bilbo, and even he looked shocked at what he’d said. Bofur reeled back as though struck.
“I’m so sorry Master Bofur, that didn’t- I didn’t mean-“
Bofur shook his head with a pained smile. He looked over the sleeping dwarves, lost in thought.
“You’re right. We don’t belong anywhere in particular. That’s why this is so important to us.” Bofur murmured softly. “I wish you all the luck that the Valar have to offer. I really do.” He added with a solemn bow.
“Bilbo, we don’t want to leave!” Esmerelda hissed, even as Bilbo made to take a step.
The other hobbits nodded in sync, and Bofur straightened up with a frown.
“We’ve offered our help. Even a pompous arse who can’t keep a civil tongue can’t change that. Hobbits do not go back on their word, especially not for a worthy cause.” Hamfast added, as though this settled the matter.
With one last look at the lightning clawing angrily across the horizon, Bilbo’s shoulders sagged, and he turned to face the group behind him. As he opened his mouth, Bofur shouldered his way in, frowning even more deeply.
“What’s that?” He asked urgently, pointing at the little sword hanging from Bilbo’s waist. Bilbo placed a tentative hand around the handle and drew it out of the sheath slightly. The sword shone a sickly blue colour, matching the glow of the moon peeking into the cave over Bilbo’s shoulders.
In horror, he raised his head to meet the eyes of the others, just as the floor made a grating mechanical noise. Thorin leapt up, roaring for everyone to get up.
It was too late.
The floor itself opened up beneath them, sending the whole group into an undignified tumble into the dark. Everyone screamed as they hit the equivalent of a giant piece of child’s play equipment, and Bilbo spared a millisecond in which to entertain the wild thought that the designers of slides and the like in the Shire would have wept at the lack of safety precautions in this particular construction. The slide itself seemed to go on endlessly, and their party were thrown violently against one another with every twist.
Finally, they landed in a dreadful cage of wood, where a horde of goblins awaited them. The abrupt stop had only one benefit: Bilbo’s shoulder seemed to have popped itself back into the socket, which would at least save him from seeking Bell or Oin’s tender mercies.
Despite the slight heads up from Bilbo’s sword, the dwarves were groggy and became easily overwhelmed by the clawing and tearing of the goblins. Really, for such famous and bloodthirsty fighters, the Company were not turning any heads with their battle prowess lately! The hobbits, having been awake already, fared better. Quick as a thought, Prim, Esmerelda and Rory managed to tuck themselves into the shadows thanks to Yavanna’s blessing, going unnoticed by the goblins. Lobelia got a few good whacks in on her attackers before being overpowered, with an incensed Otho following soon after.
Hamfast, not thinking quite as quickly as Prim and company, managed to throw himself to the ground, pulling his wife down besides him. Bilbo, disoriented, simply crouched down with his arms above his head. Drogo got himself caught before he could attempt a similar tactic, though managed to give a good fight to the goblins pulling at him.
The imprisoned dwarves and hobbits were roped up roughly and dragged forward through the bizarre goblin-town. Jeers met them with every step, and what felt like the entire population joined their wretched procession as they were marched towards their doom.
After a few seconds, the cage and surrounding platform was deserted completely. A beat passed. Shakily, Bilbo got to his feet, gesturing for Ham and Bell to stand too. Prim and her companions materialised. With a couple of signs in Hobbitish, Bilbo turned to face the way that their friends had been dragged away to.
He nodded to himself, and with a sigh squared his shoulders. Bilbo’s remaining companions arranged themselves around him.
“Whatever happens, we get to the others. They need us.” Bilbo muttered, receiving 5 nods of assent.
Quickly and quietly, they set off in pursuit, following the loud screeches and dwarvish shouting. The Hobbits used the dark conditions to their advantage, flitting from shadow to shadow. At the first crossroads, they faltered. In a fit of inspiration, Bilbo motioned the others back into the shadows and drew forwards slightly, drawing his sword. He expected the smooth metal to be nearly dull and increase in intensity when he held it towards the correct pathway.
Instead, the sword was shining like a beacon.
The goblin dropped from above before Bilbo had time to be alarmed, clawing at his back. He managed to throw the creature off, but this caused his own balance to falter. The two continued to grapple, teetering dangerously near the edge of the path, where the yawning darkness threatened to engulf them.
In a panic, the remaining Hobbits left the safety of the shadows to help their leader. Finally, Bilbo gained the upper hand, managing to skewer the goblin on his sword. But the win came at a price.
Vengeful even in death, the goblin pulled Bilbo towards him, sending the both of them tumbling into the dark. The last thing Bilbo saw as the darkness rose to swallow him was a ring of distraught faces, arms reaching for him.
Atop the crossroad, Primula slapped her hand over Bell’s mouth, silencing the older woman before she could release a scream. The five of them stood there for a moment in shock. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was stoic Hamfast who recovered first.
“You heard Mister Bilbo. We go on to help the others.” Ham whispered gruffly, reaching up to scrub at his face.
“Surely we at least look for him?” Esmerelda hissed angrily. Rory rested a hand gently on his friend’s shoulder but was roughly shaken off. “No, don’t act like that. We have to try and help him. It’s Bilbo! We don’t know how far the drop was, he might still be okay…” Esmerelda trailed off as Prim looked dubiously over the edge of the chasm.
This time, when Rory’s hand came to rest on Essie’s back, she didn’t protest. The hobbits gathered closer for a second and looked after their fallen leader. Almost perfectly synchronised, they each raised a fist to their chests, above their heart, then they raised their arms up in a closed-fisted salute. They stepped back from the edge and looked at one another.
“I think we ought to go this way. It looks like it might lead deeper into the mountain.” Esmerelda muttered quietly after a second, pointing to the nearest path. “I doubt even goblins are stupid enough to put the main part of their base near the outside.”
With that, the decision was made, and the weary group made their way deeper into goblin town.
Far below, in the deepest depths of the Misty Mountains, Bilbo woke up. It felt like every inch of his body had been battered, though the rough fall seemed to have popped his poor shoulder back out of the socket. Suddenly, Bilbo felt for all the cuts of meat he had tenderised in the past. Sweet Yavanna, his head must have been hurt if he was empathising with his food!
With a wary look around, Bilbo noticed that the goblin he’d fallen down with was nowhere to be seen. On his guard now, Bilbo fumbled around, coming across his little sword. Strange. If the goblin had moved itself away, the sword would still be shining…
Even more confused, and probably concussed, Bilbo dragged himself to his feet, using the rough rockface as support. Though his vision was spinning, Bilbo managed to look around. He didn’t even know how he was alive, though it probably had something to do with the dead creature he used as a sledge on his way down.
With only bioluminescent fungi offering any light, and his typically good night-vision seeming to be affected by his pounding head, Bilbo squinted around himself and took a step forwards, only to trip over a protruding boulder. He groaned quietly, cursing his own inattention.
“Damned fool of a Took.” He grumbled quietly, feeling around himself on the floor to make sure there were no more obstacles directly next to himself. “Can’t even see in the dark now, what sort of Hobbit are you?”
Bilbo cut himself off as his hands met something small and cold. Grasping the thing blindly, Bilbo felt the shape for a second before huffing in bemusement. Whatever was a little ring doing down here? Without really thinking about it, Bilbo slipped it into his pocket, finally dragging himself back to his poor, tired feet.
Shaking his head several times, Bilbo’s vision finally started to clear. What he saw on the ground made his blood run cold. In the damn dirt beneath his feet were drag marks, leading further into the space he’d ended up in. Undoubtedly, these were the result of Bilbo’s goblin foe being hauled across the floor. This left several questions flashing through Bilbo’s throbbing head, with one in particular taking centre stage: who’d moved the goblin?
Bilbo looked around for a path he could take to avoid following the drag marks but was dismayed to see none which he could fit through. With a put-upon sign, Bilbo gently removed his sword from its sheath and turned to face the darkness ahead.
Way up above, the rest of the hobbits had finally found what they were looking for. Before them, in what looked like a large plaza, was a swirling mass of goblins, all clustered around their captives. From their considerable distance away, it was hard to tell what was happening, so the hobbits melted into the shadows and made their way steadily closer, fanning out behind the crowd.
As they tried to arrange themselves, they were startled by the appearance of a familiar face. Gandalf appeared out of nowhere, a thunderous frown on his face. Signing in Hobbitish, he told the others to wait for his signal before carrying out a range of tasks. Esmerelda and Rory were to go for the stolen weapons, hopefully using whatever distraction Gandalf had up his sleeve to slip past the lookouts with little fanfare. Hamfast and his wife were to run into the group of captives and free them of their bonds as quickly as possible. Prim… Well, it’s safe to say that Prim was to do what she loved best.
Cause chaos.
Like wraiths, the hobbits placed themselves as close to the group of goblins as possible. Now, it was only a matter of time as they waited for Gandalf to give them his signal. They had to supress their disgust and shock as the most grotesque goblin they’d ever seen began parading about in front of their captive comrades.
As it crowed about killing them, tensions rose. In fact, the hobbits were on a hair trigger, especially when it pulled poor Otho to the front, seeming to believe that he was some sort of dwarven child.
“If none of you can tell me why you’re here, I’ll have to ask your little friend here! Fetch the bone crusher!” It wailed, and Prim took a step forward, even as Lobelia seemed to froth at the mouth, spittle flying as she roared her rage at their captors.
“No.” The word rolled out around them, like thunder approaching on the horizon. Thorin stepped forward, looking every inch the mafia boss he was meant to be.
The next few minutes passed in tedium as the goblin actually recognised Thorin and proceeded to engage in what he probably thought was a witty repartee. Several death threats passed, and one rather worrying comment about someone having a price on Thorin’s head, before Gandalf finally intervened.
With a flourish, Gandalf leaped into the centre of the gathering. He waited a beat before doing anything, but when he did, it was spectacular. He slammed his staff into the ground with deceptive strength, hard enough to crack the very stone beneath him. As the staff made contact with the ground, the crystal atop it released a light so brilliant that it rivalled the sun itself. With their natural disinclination towards light in general, the goblins reacted as one, cowering and clawing at their eyes.
In a flash (pardon the pun), the free hobbits leapt into action. Quietly and efficiently, Rory and Essie relieved the goblins of their stolen weapons. As they did so, Ham and Bell slipped between the captives, slicing their bonds. As each dwarf and hobbit found their arms free, they were neatly thrown their weapons.
Meanwhile, hot on Gandalf’s heels, Prim got to work. As a self-proclaimed agent of chaos, and a thoroughly pissed off one at that, she was off. Prim leaped here and there, slicing at throats and hacking at ankles. As she ran, she also dropped little explosive charges, timed to perfection. Bits of dead goblin flew here and there, and by the time the crowd was recovered enough to fight back, the group was ready to defend itself.
“Run!” Gandalf shouted as the goblins began to run towards them.
Breathing heavily, Lobelia shot a severe look at Gandalf.
“Oh, really? I thought we’d stand here and let them kill us now we’re free.” She snarked, before Otho did something that no one had ever dared do before, other than Bilbo.
“Shut up darling, for Yavanna’s sake!.” He hissed, grabbing her wrist and pulling her along with the rest of the group.
“Oh!” Lobelia murmured, an entirely inappropriate grin sliding across her face as she pelted along after the others. “I like this side of you, my love.”
“Mahal, not the time!” Nori hissed at them, having had the misfortune to end up running beside them.
The group ran for what felt like miles through the twisting tunnels. The goblins proved adept at following, and every so often Bofur and Oin, at the rear of the group, would have to rap their weapons against grasping fingers or snarling heads. Finally, they came to a halt on massive bridge, upon which the great goblin was waiting.
It opened its mouth, no doubt intending to make some stupid remark about getting the bounty on Thorin’s head after all. Whatever he intended to say would remain a mystery. Drogo, clearly having had enough for one day, nicked Bofur’s mattock from right out of his hand and went charging at the great beast. Without missing a beat, the rest of the Hobbits joined in. In a rather impressive move, Drogo’s knees hit the ground not far from the shocked goblin king, and he threw the mattock up into the air.
Behind him, Rory continued running, right up Drogo’s back and into the air. He caught the weapon midair before swinging it neatly in an arc, gutting the massive goblin quite effectively. Never one to be outdone, Lobelia continued her charge forward, unsheathing a thin sword. As the goblin clutched at his stomach in confusion, she followed Rory’s path up poor Drogo’s back and whirled her sword at the beast’s head. In one rather neat move, and with strength that no one else thought she possessed, she chopped his head clean off.
“That’s what you get for trying to hurt my husband, you arsehole!” She spat as she landed.
In the moment of stupefaction which followed, Hamfast wondered up to the beast more sedately, and planted a firm kick straight to its nether regions, sending it toppling backwards.
“Well bless me, that went rather well, don’t you think?” Bofur asked, just as the weight of the goblin’s body hit the slats of the rickety bridge.
With a creaking of wood and snapping of rope, the bridge itself fell, cushioned slightly by the snapping of the thin supports as it went down. All the party could do was hold on for dear life as the bridge fell through the darkness.
At long last, their descent stopped, leaving them only a few feet from the ground. Silence reigned, before a weak laugh rung out.
“Well, I suppose it could have been worse, ey lads?” Bofur grinned.
Everyone turned to stare at the miner. If looks could kill, he would have been dead a few times over. In the distance, a cacophony of screeches started up, and seemed to get closer by the second.
“The next time you open your mouth, I’ll kick your head in.” Growled Esmerelda at the miner as Gandalf beckoned them all over.
The wizard was certain that one of the passages nearby would lead them out, and Bofur was able to redeem himself (mostly). Using his stone-sense, he quickly got them moving in the right direction. In a few short twists and turns, the group poured out of the crevice, flowing down the mountainside like lava. In the first stroke of luck since leaving the Last Homely House, the sun was still up, mercifully preventing their pursuers from following.
This didn’t stop the lot of them from continuing to run until they were in a copse of trees out of direct sight of the mountains. They all began checking on one another, panting, but a sudden wail caught everyone’s attention. Lobelia was shrieking, thumping at the arms of her husband as he held her.
“He can’t be! We have to go back!” She cried.
“We saw him fall, ‘Belia. There was nothing we could do.” Prim was saying softly, sorrow etched into her features.
“What’s going on here?” Thorin interrupted sharply.
In a few short moments, the group of hobbits who’d seen Bilbo fall had recounted the tale, and the group fell back into silence apart from Lobelia’s hiccoughing sobs. Hamfast tentatively wondered if perhaps Bilbo might have survived the fall after all and might even be on his way back to them.
“If he lived, he’s halfway back to the elves by now. He wanted you all to go home, after all. Perhaps you should.” Thorin spat harshly.
There was a beat of silence, in which two things happened. First, Frerin punched his brother hard in the arm for being insensitive. Second, a battered and bloodied Bilbo stepped out from behind a tree, his voice ringing out through the clearing.
“Well now, there’s no need to be upset Lobelia. You’ll get to laugh over my deathbed yet, I daresay. I’m not going anywhere.” He tacked this last part on with a dirty look at Thorin.
Thorin stalked towards Bilbo, and the look on his face was so severe, nobody quite dared stop him. He stopped inches away from the battered hobbit, breathing heavily.
“Why did you come back? After all I said to you? How did you get out?”
“And what do you have, my friend?” Gandalf pondered, almost too quietly to be heard, though Bilbo made an aborted movement towards his waistcoat pocket which had the wizard raising his eyebrows.
“Ahem…” Bilbo cleared his throat and looked around helplessly. “Do you know I found… my courage down in those caves?” Bilbo murmured, though it seemed like he wanted to say something else at first. “Aside from the fact that I couldn’t very well leave my people out here without me?” He let out a laugh, which fell a little flat, and looked up at Thorin. “No, I know, I could even have gotten the others and left. But I won’t be doing that. As a wise friend told me: I made a promise. We hobbits do not go back on our word, especially not for a cause as deserving as this.” Bilbo smiled, locking eyes with Hamfast before darting another look up at the other leader.
Thorin looked as though he’d been chewing on a lemon, and no one appeared to know how to proceed. It was just as well that the howls of wargs rent the air at this point, otherwise they might have stood there all day.