Chapter Text
“What,” Bilbo asked, with what he considered an admirable amount of self-control, “are the Black Riders?”
“They were honest men and women, once,” Gandalf said, his voice a low, steady murmur. “Nothing more. But they grew powerful, and caught the eye of some greater force. We are not certain how it was done, but seemingly overnight, nine of the most prominent businesspeople in the country suddenly walked away from all they had created. They joined forces under the name of Mordor Incorporated, and we have never since been able to speak with any of them.”
Bilbo relaxed, and let out a deep breath. “No need to go and scare me like that! With a name like that, I thought we were in for trouble!”
“We are!” Fili insisted. “Mordor has tentacles in everything! Manufacturing, supply, food production, media - you name it, they’re meddling in it! If the Black Riders are after you, they could destroy everything we have here - and in a completely above-board way. They wouldn’t have to break a single law.”
Thorin growled in agreement. “Bombur has mentioned Mordor before, when speaking of some of his less scrupulous political acquaintances. There are many politicians in Mordor’s pockets, that is certain, and plenty who yet have no love for us.”
“Word on the street is that they’re sending forces out to nab you in particular, Uncle Bill,” Kili said soberly. It was strange to see him so still and intent, and Bilbo swallowed. The fear came rushing back in full force. “They can make people disappear. I looked into it - and everyone knows they do it, and nobody can stop it. There was a journalist who was writing about us a few years back - Faramir Stewart, he was called. He wouldn’t stop asking questions and digging for the truth - and then he was gone! He’s been missing for almost two years now. All the gangs know is that it was Mordor, and that people who get snatched by the Black Riders aren’t seen again.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Thorin declared. The certainty in his voice was bracing, although Bilbo knew better than to believe everything was going to be all right just because Thorin said it was. “We won’t let them lay a finger on you.”
“But I don’t understand why they’re after me at all!” Bilbo protested. “I haven’t got money or power, and I’m certainly not doing anything to uncover their secrets. I’ve hardly left this mountain in months!”
Fili glanced at Kili, and then looked at Bilbo, rubbing his forehead awkwardly. He and Kili both looked guilty. “Remember that brilliant little adventure we convinced you to go on with us, back when you were still at Bag End? The informant in Glasgow?”
“There are, occasionally, times when I manage to forget it,” Bilbo said severely. “That was one of your worst plans ever - and that’s saying something, lads.”
“It’s even worse than you know,” Kili said glumly. “The flash drive you got from Gollum? That’s what they’re after.”
Bilbo frowned. That made no sense at all. “But we’ve already decrypted all of that information, and made it public! There’s nothing left!”
“That is not quite accurate.” Gandalf leaned in a bit closer, and the flickering firelight made his lined face look almost sinister. “As it happens, Gollum stole the drive from Smaug before you stole it from him - but Smaug had stolen it before that, from the head of Mordor himself. We cannot get straight answers from the man, but this much we have learned. Smaug was working closely with Mordor for many years. They put him into a position of power and supported his goals, and he saw to it that Mordor received lucrative contracts for green energy initiatives - which they had no intention of fulfilling. The relationship turned sour near the end, and Smaug seems to have stolen the drive as a form of insurance against retaliation.”
“But it’s just a flash drive!” Bilbo protested. “Whatever made it valuable to Mordor must have been erased at some point. There was nothing but Smaug’s data on the drive!”
“Not on the drive,” Gandalf agreed. “In the drive. There is something intrinsic to the drive itself that makes it valuable. It may be some sort of key, or be wired to perform a particular function.”
“All we know is that they want it badly,” Fili put in.
“And so they can’t have it,” Kili finished, as though the sentence had been his own to begin with.
“We can’t just give it to them and be done with it?” Bilbo asked. He knew it was a useless hope. When was anything in his life ever that straightforward?
“That would be most unwise,” Gandalf rumbled. “My organisation is investigating Mordor as we speak, though there is precious little to find on their activities. Smaug has been our chief informant, and although we cannot trust much of what he says, I believe the threat is real. Mordor is planning an attack that would cause inestimable damage to this country, and we cannot allow anything to fall into their hands that might aid them in their aims.”
“But they know where we live, surely!” Bilbo said, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting to see Black Riders behind him already. “Everyone knows. It’s not exactly a secret.”
“No, it isn’t.” Thorin took Bilbo’s hand, pressing it tight. “We need to get you out of here.”
“I’m not leaving!” Bilbo protested. “This is my home, Thorin! I can’t just run off into the blue again. There’s Frodo to think of, and-”
“And none of that will matter if they take you!” Thorin growled. “I will not stand by and see you in danger, but I don’t see how the mountain can be made safe enough, if these Black Riders have as much power as you say.” He looked to Fili and Kili, who both nodded fiercely.
“We’ve been as sneaky as we know how to be - and that’s saying something,” Kili said, with a hint of his usual enthusiasm. “I don’t think word will have gotten back to them yet that we know they’re after you.”
“But there’s no time to waste,” Fili continued. “I’ve been tracking them through police surveillance, and they’re on the move.”
“Fili,” Gandalf said sternly. “I did not teach you to use the systems in that way.”
“No, you didn’t,” he shot back, straightening his shoulders a bit. “I taught myself - just like Kili taught himself how to break into the secure wards in the hospitals to get information out of Mordor-affiliated prisoners. We’ve all got our own skills.”
“But you promised me you would abide by the law!” Bilbo said. He was glad of the darkness and his distance from the fire, because he didn’t particularly want anyone to see just how hurt he was by their broken promises. “It seems I cannot trust you out of earshot!”
“Sorry, Uncle Bill,” Fili said quietly. He didn’t sound at all repentant. “But, no, you can’t - not if it means abandoning you or letting you get caught up in this business, just for the sake of some useless laws. We’re never going to be trustworthy in that way, so please don’t ask us to.”
“But you can trust us,” Kili put in. He looked at Bilbo beseechingly. “You know you can. You can trust us to look after the family’s best interests, and to keep your secrets - closer than you keep them yourself!”
Thorin shook his head, looking deeply sorrowful. “And if you get yourselves thrown in prison, what good will you be to anyone?”
“We’re not going to prison,” Fili scoffed. “We’re coming with you, of course!”
Bilbo threw up his hands in exasperation. “I’m not going anywhere!”
“I think you’d better,” Gandalf interrupted, just as he was about to start into a well-deserved rant about the whole mess. “The Black Riders are after you - and the drive you carry. It is precious to them. If they come to this mountain to seek it out-”
Bilbo felt, rather than saw, Thorin’s instinctive wince of horror at the threat to his newly-reclaimed home, and the fire went out of him. “Beinn Chuirn isn’t safe as long as I’m here, is it?” he asked dully. No-one spoke. He waited a long moment, and then nodded his head, sighing. “Then I’ll go. Frodo and I can take the bloody thing far away. Maybe we’ll drop it into the sea or something.”
“No!” Gandalf’s voice was sharp. “We do not know yet what it means, or what it may do. Keep it secret, and keep it safe, until we can find more answers.”
Kili cleared his throat awkwardly, and Bilbo looked at him, bemused when he saw the strange face the lad was making. It took him a moment to read the signals that both boys were sending, and then he turned to Thorin. “Would you mind going and fetching the awful thing? I think I’d better start keeping it close.” Thorin nodded, and was gone in an instant. Once he was sure Thorin was out of earshot, Bilbo turned back to the lads. “Speak fast,” he told them. “Why did you want him gone?”
“It’s about Frodo,” Kili started, and then went silent.
“Don’t take him with you,” Fili finished.
Bilbo blinked at them. It was close to the last thing he would have expected them to say. “What do you mean? I’m his family, lads. I’m not about to leave him behind.”
“Then you’ll be doing him an injury,” Fili said sharply. “He’s nine, Uncle Bill. He doesn’t deserve to be dragged into this.”
“Just a moment,” Bilbo said, beginning to feel entirely wrongfooted. “I’m talking about taking him with me on a little adventure, which would involve staying as far as possible away from the people out to do us harm. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that exactly the sort of thing that you two grew up doing?”
“Yes.” Kili’s voice was no more than a whisper. “That’s why we’re saying it. Don’t do it, Uncle Bill. Please.”
“Leave him here. Let him stay with Sam for the time being, or with any of the family. He’ll be happier.” Fili’s voice was flat and distant.
“But you said you loved it as children - growing up on the road, moving from one adventure to the next!” Bilbo protested. “For heaven’s sake, I’m not proposing to turn him into-.” He broke off, suddenly aware that there was no good way to end that sentence that didn’t reflect badly on their own childhoods.
“An exile?” Kili asked, sounding impossibly bleak. “A criminal? A vagrant? Neither did Uncle Thorin, when it all started, and look what became of us.” He gestured between himself and his brother - though there were hardly six inches of space separating them. “We love Frodo - like he was our own brother - and we don’t want him growing up like us.“
Bilbo found that there was a strange lump in his throat. He couldn’t think of anything to say to that - and was glad when the odd moment was interrupted by Thorin’s return. He was carrying the little leather pouch that held the drive. Bilbo nearly snatched it from his hands, feeling unusually fretful. He checked to see that the drive was still inside, and then tucked the pouch deep inside an inner pocket in his parka, buttoning it securely closed. With the little bit of troublesome metal hidden away, close to him and under his watch, Bilbo felt a little more secure.
“What should we do?” he asked Gandalf. “Where can we go?”
“You need to shake the Black Riders before you go anywhere in particular,” the old man mused. “I would advise you to make for Elrond’s home in Glen Etive. Rivendell is more secure than anywhere else that is readily accessible, and I will be working with Elrond to gather information for you. Take a few days to make your way there, by whatever means necessary - and be on your guard! The Black Riders are more cunning and subtle than you may expect, and they have eyes everywhere.”
“When must we leave?”
“As soon as we can,” Thorin answered. “I will go and speak to Balin and Dwalin, and perhaps some of the others. We’ll need a plan to keep the mines operational, however long this may keep us away.”
“Wait, what?” Bilbo asked, and felt his brow furrow in confusion. “You’re not leaving, too? This place is your dream, Thorin! I can manage to stay hidden on my own.”
Thorin smiled at him - a warm, sweet thing in the firelight - and shook his head. “You followed me around the country on a perilous adventure with no real chance of success. Do you think I’m about to do any less for you now?” He nodded once, sharp and simple. “I’m coming with you.”
And that was that.
Somehow, they made it through the night. Bilbo found himself packing and repacking a few battered old satchels left over from the bad old days, and trying to remember what they had once contained. Thorin seemed to spend the entire night wandering the mountain, waking up one companion after another, and holding innumerable whispered conversations with them. Fili and Kili were everywhere at once, as was their way, and they managed to repack all of Bilbo’s bags properly in one of their rushed passes through his little sitting room. Fili kept one eye glued to his mobile at all times, and stopped Bilbo to show him a grainy picture sometime near dawn.
“They’re getting close,” he murmured. “Maybe two hours out. It’ll be harder to track them as they move north toward us.”
Bilbo nodded, and went to tell Thorin. By the time dawn broke over Beinn Chuirn, the Sons of Durin were all gathered in their little village, looking solemn.
“My friends,” Thorin began. His voice sounded a bit strained. “I had hoped that our return here would be the end of our struggles - but that was never likely to be the case. For centuries, Durin’s folk have lived on these lands, and for centuries, they have paid for them in toil and blood. But this is not the end of our story! We have reached a parting of ways, and no more.”
To their right, Balin, Oin, and Ori stood in a little group, similarly packed and ready to leave. Dwalin and Bofur had dug out their old leather jackets from somewhere and were prepared to take to their motorbikes, planning to serve as both an advance guard and a diversion, as necessary. The rest huddled awkwardly together, wearing expressions of combined anger and puzzled worry that Bilbo was secretly certain only the Sons of Durin could pull off.
“Don’t worry about us,” Dori said steadily. “We’ll look after things here in your absence. You’ll hardly know you’ve been gone!” He offered a nervous smile.
“If there’s anything we can do to assist, Moria is only a few hours away,” Balin reminded them all gently.
From the middle of their protective huddle, Frodo pulled himself away and came over to Bilbo, tugging at his sleeve. Bilbo dropped to one knee to look him in the eyes.
“Are you coming back soon, Uncle Bilbo?” he asked.
“As soon as possible, my dear Frodo,” he promised. “And you’ll look after Sam and the rest while I’m gone, won’t you?”
“Of course!” Frodo nodded, and then looked worried again. “And you’ll look after Thorin and Fili and Kili?”
“Just as much as we’ll look after him,” Fili assured him kindly. He put out his hand, and they shared the secret handshake they had invented more than a year before, when Frodo had wanted a special promise that Fili and Kili wouldn’t go away and forget him. “We’ll be back before you know it!”
Kili crouched down next to him, ruffling Frodo’s dark curls. “Don’t forget to make loads and loads of trouble for them!” he whispered in a horribly loud voice. “It’s your job to keep the adults too busy to worry about unimportant things!” Frodo giggled at that.
With a sigh, Bilbo reached out to hug the little boy. He hadn’t been away from Frodo for more than a day or two since his little cousin had first come to live with him, and it took real willpower to make himself let go again.
There were embraces all around, then, and bruising slaps on the back - and then the Sons of Durin broke apart, and headed away in their separate directions. Bilbo followed Thorin and the lads down an unfamiliar path that led away from the beaten car-track, pausing at the last moment to look back into their peaceful little glen.
“I wonder if I’ll ever really see it again?” he muttered to himself, as he was struck by a sudden wave of uncertainty. It seemed possible, now, that he would not look upon the familiar sight again - and that was an unbearable thought. But he was a Baggins, once of Bag End, and so he squared his shoulders, and hoisted his battered satchel a bit higher, and walked away with his head held high.