Chapter Text
Bofur somehow managed to find him the next day anyway. As Bilbo was getting ready and packing up his things early that morning, his hat wearing friend all but barged into his tent uninvited, making Bilbo practically jump out of his skin.
“You’re going with that guy, aren’t you?!” Bofur demanded without prelude as Bilbo blinked stupidly at him, folded up sweater currently in his hands. Sod those blasted watchmen! He grumbled. Bofur’s normally jolly face broke into a frown.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
“Bofur...”
“The watchmen told me last night!”
“Come on...”
“I talked it over with Gloin and we’re coming with you.”
“You can’t stop m...wait, what?”
Bofur looked overly proud of himself. “We’re coming with you. We don’t know who that guy is and what he really wants. And you’re an idiot for agreeing to go alone with him in the first place.” He reprimanded, wagging a finger at Bilbo. Bilbo in turn, rolled his eyes and measured his friend with a slightly exasperated look.
“You know we’re not going on a picnic, right?
“Ah, were that it was so.” Bofur grinned his cheeky grin, thumbing at his nose. “You don’t have to be insulting though. I’m sure I know these tunnels far better than a certain someone.” He shot Bilbo a pointed look, which the younger man chose to ignore with all his might. Bofur chuckled.
And really, Bilbo wasn’t against the idea. At all. He cared very much for Bofur and for Gloin and having them along would do wonders to soothe his nerves. He was still quite determined not to seem utterly useless in Thorin’s eyes and hoped that maybe he could even teach himself to be brave.
Even so, he grumbled at Bofur and shooed the man from his tent as he set to finishing getting ready. He was sure to pack some spare clothes and even more spare equipment, as much as he could carry. He didn’t want to accidentally pack too much or too little and end up complaining the whole journey. That certainly wouldn’t earn him points.
It didn’t take Bilbo long to finish and, setting his pack aside, he took one final look around the tent. His tent. It had been his home for years and years. Since his parents migrated to VDNH when he was still 10. First, he lived here with them. Then he lived here with Gandalf. Bilbo silently wished that he had gotten a chance to see his god father again before their departure. The man who had raised him after his parents’ passing. The man who, while Bilbo never admitted it aloud, had become almost a father to him. He took one final and hesitant stroll around the tent before snatching his pack from the floor and departing without a backwards glance.
Don’t turn back or you’ll never leave.
He had to repeat that in his head. Over and over, until he reached the guest tent. Thorin was already packed and looking not too pleased about their two new additions. Even if he said nothing on the subject. Bilbo just smiled sheepishly and shrugged as Bofur and Gloin joined them. Bofur looked horribly pleased with himself and Gloin had to fight the urge to laugh at his companion’s exuberance. And Bilbo felt more and more pleased to have them along. Thorin was definitely not a good conversationalist.
They started off without much delay, Gloin falling back to stroll alongside Bilbo while Bofur wearily walked beside Thorin, eyeing the hunter suspiciously. Gloin shot Bilbo a look.
“So, how much do you actually know about ‘im?” The bearded man asked quietly, making Bilbo lean in to hear him.
Bilbo shrugged.“He’s good friends with Gandalf. And he’s a hunter.”
“A what?”
“You know...he kills the monsters that keep invading the metro.”
Gloin grunted and considered. “Not doing a very good job with our problem, is he?” He chuckled.
“What do you imagine we’re going to Polis for?” Came the sudden question from Thorin and both Bilbo and Gloin snapped out their conversation, a bit startled. They had been whispering back and forth and for Thorin to hear...ears of a fox, that one.
Gloin grunted and furrowed his bushy brows. Thorin took his silence for an answer and continued. “This is unlike any threat I’ve ever seen. And requires larger tools than I’m able to carry.” He said flatly and Bilbo was suddenly hit with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had no idea why. Gloin didn’t look ready to let it go at that.
“What kind of tools?”
“Ones that one person can’t carry on them.” Thorin replied flatly, closing the subject for the moment. Gloin didn’t look satisfied with that answer but let it go while Bilbo chewed nervously on his lip. He wanted to help, really he did. But why did his stomach writhe nervously all of the sudden? Just what kind of tools were these?
They traveled between VDNH and Alekseevskaya without incident; Thorin their stoic and silent guide while Gloin and Bofur talked quietly between themselves. Bilbo said nothing. His thoughts were in turmoil. This would be the first time that he would go past Rizhskaya. The first time he would ever get to see Polis. He remembered Gandalf telling him of it. The wonder it arose in most citizens of the metro. For it wasn’t just the center of the metropolitan.
“It’s a real city, Bilbo my lad.” Gandalf had told him, smiling wistfully. “It’s the last place on this earth where humans live like humans. Where the word ‘humanity’ means something beyond the mere instinct to survive. It’s civilization.”
Bilbo had always heard stories from passing traders. Polis. The last cultural beacon of humanity. The place that had the most amazing people. Teachers, artists, writers, scientists and physicists were welcome in Polis while no other station thought to keep them safe. Polis itself occupied 4 stations; Borovitskaya, Aleksandrovskiy sad, Arbatskaya and Biblioteka Imeni Lenina. These four stations were the very heart of humanity now and also happened to be located right under the Library built in Lenin’s name.
It gave Bilbo the chills. He had always loved to read. Always craved knowledge and felt a severe lack of either on VDNH. Sure, they were literate, unlike some other stations. They knew their letters and math and some science but it paled in comparison to the knowledge that dwelt in Polis. Bilbo thought that the promise of that knowledge may have been part of the reason why he said he’d help Thorin. It was a bit selfish, he realized. He still wished to help the hunter, and help his station but... Books. If Bilbo had one true passion for something; it was books.
He and Gandalf had a few. Some rare books Gandalf was able to find on his journeys through the metro and Bilbo had the hardest time in leaving them behind. Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Chekhov. Writers whose names would soon disappear from the peoples’ lexicon altogether. It was a sad realization, Bilbo considered with a frown, but one that was probably true.
Thorin’s hand on his shoulder suddenly snapped him out of his thoughts. They had reached the cordon that marked 450 meters for Alekseevskaya and Gloin was currently talking to the leader of their watch. Bilbo smiled sheepishly.
“That was...quick...” He muttered before Gloin gestured them through the cordon, following after his older friend while Thorin brought up the rear. The inhabitants of Alekseevskaya were in a far sorrier state than VDNH. The population of the station was miniscule and even after they had joined with VDNH and Rizhskaya, the state of the station wasn’t far better than it had been before the union. Still, the union was fairly new, and the stations traded between each other and kept each other’s borders relatively safe.
They rested only a little before Thorin insisted they continue. Bilbo was loathe to leave but the station was in such a sorry state that staying there didn’t seem beneficial. Still, he hoped things would improve for them. There was only so long a person could live like that...
The passage between Alekseevskaya and Rizhskaya was far longer than the one from VDNH and they continued down the tracks in silence, the beam of Thorin’s flashlight flicking from wall to wall. Bofur brought up the rear. But Bilbo began to notice that the further they got down the tunnel, the more the older man’s gaze dashed back over his shoulder. At first, it happened only a few times but soon, it became a frequent occurrence and Bofur couldn’t take two steps without hurriedly peering over his shoulder. Bilbo swiveled on his heel, getting a good look at the tunnel behind them and, shooting Bofur a friendly smile, tried to reassure his friend.
“There’s nothing there.” He promised, shinning the light of his flashlight into the gloom. Bofur smiled nervously and nodded but as Bilbo went to turn back around, he saw Bofur’s gaze dash back down the tunnel once more.
“Tunnel fear” they called it. A phenomenon that happened quite often to lonely travelers; especially those with bad flashlights. An odd little tickle in the back of a person’s mind, an odd little pressure that almost seemed like someone, or something was watching them. Or maybe not even watching. Who knows how creatures perceived the world around them? But it was a feeling that grew and grew, until you weren’t able to take it anymore and swiveled around lightning fast to find... nothing. Quiet. Emptiness. The perfect darkness of the tunnel quickly illuminated by the tiny light of a flashlight.
So you peer into the gloom, searching for what caused that feeling while behind you, that feeling builds again. It’s always behind you, always crushing and muddling your thoughts. The most important thing was to never lose yourself to that feeling. To reassure yourself that it was all in your head and the tunnels were indeed empty.
Yet many a lonely traveler succumbed to the fear and, unable to calm themselves down they would bolt for the nearest station, shrieking in terror. And only there, and only under the red emergency lights and the warmth of the watch fires would they realize how silly they had been. Yet they couldn’t force themselves back into the tunnel again.
Bilbo watched Bofur wearily as his hat wearing friend continued nervously dashing his gaze behind himself.
“Bofur, it’s fine.” He tried again at the 20th time it happened but the other seemed less and less convinced. Bilbo frowned and taking Bofur’s hand, made the older man walk before him. Tunnel fear, that’s all it was. It would pass.
Still, the tunnel seemed strangely untraveled for being the main connection between Alekseevskaya and Rizhskaya and Bilbo began to wonder at it. The further down they got, the more he felt like he could hear something, seemingly coming from the tunnel ahead. A faint little whine that at first started out as a noise almost beyond human hearing. It crept up slowly and Bilbo wasn’t sure when he first started to actually hear it. When he finally registered it, it shrieked over the walls of the tunnel like a whistling, high pitched whisper; undecipherable and not human.
Bilbo froze in his steps and stared at the others. Surely, they could hear it too. But their expressions didn’t reassure him of that. They continued walking in steady rhythm, Bofur’s shoulders stiff with nerves. The high pitched whispers grew and Bilbo felt the first inklings of fear. They didn’t hear anything?! Nothing?! How was that possible? The noises were so loud and so clear! It was getting harder to think and to rationalize and the whispers boomed in his ears until he stumbled and stopped again. He must have made a noise because the light of Bofur’s flashlight was on him in an instant.
“Bilbo?” Thorin stopped a few steps ahead of them, looking back as Bofur rushed to Bilbo’s side.
“What is it?”
“You don’t hear anything?” Bilbo managed to filter through his teeth. Bofur’s concerned expression grew but he took a moment to peer around, shinning the light of his flashlight over the walls and listening. Thorin frowned.
“Something wrong?” He asked, seemingly a little annoyed by the delay but Bilbo’s eyes met his; lost and more than a little confused. Thorin frowned.
“You don’t hear anything either?” Bilbo asked, voice strained as it was taking some effort to speak. Thorin studied Bilbo’s face for a few moments before standing stock still, finger ghosting over the trigger of his gun as he squinted into the gloom and listened.
And the noise returned again. This time louder, echoing and swimming in magnitude and Bilbo swore he could catch the tail ends of words. Again, it was getting hard to think but Bilbo tried his best, staring intently into Thorin’s face. Surely, he could hear something! This was Thorin. Perceptive, well trained Thorin. There was no way he’d miss something like this. But the longer he stared into the hunter’s features the more he saw frown lines smooth over and the finger on the trigger relax. Bilbo’s feelings of confusion were replaced by pure bewilderment.
“You could be hallucinating.” The hunter breathed at last, even while looking unsure of the words and motioning for them to get moving again. Bilbo’s bewilderment grew. He wasn’t hallucinating! He could hear the noise as well as he could hear them speaking. But they heard nothing? Slowly, he forced himself to walk while the whispers hissed in his ears, their high pitched echoes growing impossible to ignore.
Was he going crazy?
Even through his worries, Bilbo began to notice as Bofur kept tugging at his ear, slapping at it occasionally.
“Bofur?”
“Hell, is the darndest thing! It’s like I’m in the water, my ears keep plugging.” Bofur frowned, trying to pick at his ear. Bilbo frowned, coming a bit closer to the older man while the whispers hissed and shrieked in his ears, growing to the point of agony. But as they reached its highest pitch, Bilbo began to finally understand where they were coming from. Further down the tunnel, against one of its walls, ran pipes of varying thicknesses. As Bilbo squinted into the darkness, he could make out that one of the communication pipes had burst and it was from this dark and jagged opening that the strange whispers were coming from. The noise flowed from its very depths and just as Bilbo tried to figure out what exactly was making it; he could see no wires, no speakers, just empty blackness, the heavy fall of Gloin’s boots stopped suddenly in front of Bofur. The bearded man suddenly looked exhausted and rubbed at his eyes, frowning.
“’Ey lads, let’s stop here for a moment. Feel dead on my feet...” He muttered with a lot of effort, and as Bilbo looked at him, his eyes looked terribly bloodshot. “Just one moment...” He breathed tiredly, taking one step towards Bilbo before keeling over and falling face first onto the rails. Bilbo let out a frantic cry and rushed to his friend just as Bofur suddenly sat straight down on the rails and began to wail. Bilbo, bewildered and lost, tried to spot Thorin and saw the hunter as he continued to walk down the tunnel. But he walked slowly, and strangely unsteady and when Bilbo cried out his name, he didn’t respond, his eyes pointed to the roof of the tunnel.
Bilbo panicked. The whispering shrieking noise was at its peak and he could barely hear anything. Plugging up his ears helped a little and Bilbo took off running after Thorin. Luckily because the hunter walked slowly, Bilbo caught up to him quickly, grabbing the hunter by his wrist and seeing that he hadn’t been looking at the roof of the tunnel at all. His eyes were drawn shut and Bilbo, panicking even more, quickly reached up, dragging one of his eyes open and shinning the beam of the flashlight right into it. Thorin let out a sudden noise, both his eyes snapping open as he stared at Bilbo without actually seeing him. Letting out a tiny noise of fear in the back of his throat, Bilbo quickly grabbed Thorin’s wrist and dragged him back to the others.
“Stay!” He commanded, having to shout over the noise in his ears without making the connection that he was the only one who could hear it. Leaving Thorin next to Gloin’s collapsed body, Bilbo dashed over to Bofur. He sat on the rails and sobbed quite loudly and when Bilbo fell to his knees before him, he met the most devastated gaze he could ever imagine. Bofur’s expression was so anguished and lost that Bilbo was taken aback, jerking away from his friend.
“They’re all dead! It hurt them so much!” The hat wearing man wailed loudly but as Bilbo tried to pull him up his feet, Bofur yanked back from him, spitting out venomously.
“No! Get away from me, you swine! Murderer! I’m not going with you! They’re hurting! They’re hurting so much! I’m not going with you! I’m staying here!” He stared wild eyed at Bilbo. “It’s your fault!” He shrieked and tried to beat Bilbo back. “I’m staying!”
Bilbo had to fight every instinct to slap Bofur a good one but in the other’s current state there was a huge chance he would get a slap right back, and possibly harder. Clearing his throat and drawing his hands away from Bofur, Bilbo tried very hard to speak gently. The shrieking whispers in his ears continued and it was incredibly difficult to maintain a quiet tone. He could barely hear himself.
“But you want to help them, don’t you?”
Whipping his eyes, Bofur stared at Bilbo. “Of course I do.”
“They said they want you to help me. Can you do that?”
“They...they said that?” Bofur asked suspiciously and Bilbo offered him his best reassuring smile.
“They did.”
“And then I can come back?”
“I promise.”
Studying Bilbo wearily, Bofur finally nodded and allowed the curly haired man to drag him to his feet. Still smiling reassuringly, Bilbo pointed to Gloin and delegated to Bofur how to fireman carry the man through the tunnel while he had to practically haul Thorin along by the hand. He didn’t exactly resist, but he was practically no help and walked slowly to the point where Bilbo had to go around him and push him from the back. He switched every once in a while, his gun still in his hand but all he knew was that they had to leave. Had to get out of this terrible place as quickly as possible.
The screeching, almost deafening shriek of whispers was slowly beginning to fade in the distance and Bilbo felt Thorin’s gate speed up. Soon enough they were within throwing distance of the first watch on Rizhskaya and the hunter froze, staring at Bilbo, who still clutched his hand.
“...Bilbo?” He asked slowly while there was a loud groan from Bofur, who slowly lowered Gloin to the rails. Gloin was waking up.
Bilbo, relieved and more than a little exhausted, almost collapsed, letting out a little laugh. “Oh thank heavens! I thought it would never fade!” He said instead, doubling over to heave for air. Thorin shakily rubbed his face.
“Strangest thing... I was walking and suddenly my mind clouded...and my thoughts didn’t seem my own anymore and I just... kept walking. I heard him crying about something...” He added, jabbing his thumb at Bofur who looked more than a little confused. Straightening, Bilbo peered at his friend and tried to smile.
“You know Bofur, you were demanding quite loudly that I leave you there. More than once. Said you weren’t going anywhere with the likes of me. Even made me promise I’d let you go. Well then, I release you.” He teased, trying to break the tension in the air and Bofur chuckled, if weakly.
“No thank you. I think I’m more than happy with you fools.”
Gloin groaned loudly. “I just...dropped like a sack of potatoes...” He chuckled gruffly, rubbing a tired hand through his beard and Bilbo, not being able to hold it anymore, burst into laughter. If he didn’t laugh, he’d cry in horror. Those shrieking whispers still played back in his mind and he wanted nothing more than a pair of the longest pincers to somehow drag the sound out of his brain.
Bofur and Gloin looked startled by the laughter but Thorin studied Bilbo a bit strangely. He said nothing for the moment and after Bilbo’s laughter faded into light chuckling, he led them through the watch post on Rizhskaya without a problem.
Bilbo didn’t even need to demand that they take a rest there and neither Gloin nor Bofur objected when Thorin declared they would camp there. They were allowed use of the guest tent and while the others fell asleep, it was Thorin who lay awake, watching the roof of the tent quietly.
That small, young man heard the voice that he, Thorin was not able to hear. Not often did he feel inferior to someone in something and it was unusual. The hunter frowned, Gloin snoring loudly somewhere to his left. Bilbo had some sort of...knack for voices. The tunnels on the way to Botanicheskiy sad...the music he said he heard on the surface, now this. He had gotten them out of an incredibly dangerous situation because he was able to hear something that Thorin didn’t pick up on.
Then he was right in his decision to go to Polis and especially right to bring Bilbo along. Maybe the young man could help them with something they were currently unable to solve themselves.
Maybe...
Peering through the darkness, Thorin was just able to make out the sleeping shape of Bilbo, curled up tightly against a ragged old pillow.
Thorin hoped he was right. Really, really hoped.