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By the third day we spent travelling through Mirkwood, we had nearly exhausted our supply of food and water. After that, we were too far into the dense forest to tell the passing of time. I was parched, but I said nothing. The stream that passed through Mirkwood was enchanted by some dark magic, according to Gandalf, and under no circumstances were we to even touch the water’s surface.
At this point I wished I had never gone on this quest. It was clear to me that Thorin — and all the other dwarves — thought me a useless, fat glutton. I was a pawn in this game; I was worth nothing to them. Would Thorin even notice if I slipped away? Would anyone? I was always an afterthought, always placed last… Gandalf had called me fat enough to count for two dwarves and made me come alone and last. I was ridiculed by the whole party. But I had every right to be angry, for everything I — just like the rest of them — had lost, for every nasty comment they threw at me like coal to a furnace. Just to keep my anger going. Just to watch me burn.
Maybe I wanted to be in that furnace. A red-hot lump of metal, heated by flame, only to be forged anew. Maybe I should have let myself heat up, let my rage boil. Maybe I could—
“There is a boat against the far bank!” Bilbo cried, snapping me out of my rumination.
“I shall cross first,” Thorin told Bilbo. “After that…” he trailed off, listing all the other dwarves.
“And last, Dwalin and Bombur,” Thorin concluded, and that was it, he was finally pulling me from the furnace and hitting me with his hammer. I stood up, ready to shower him with sparks.
“I’m always last and I don’t like it,” I voiced. “It’s somebody else’s turn today. I’m tired of being thrown around and berated by all of you!”
Everyone went quiet. Bilbo stared at his feet. Thorin glared at me like I was an orc.
“You should not be so fat then. As you are, you must be with the last and lightest boatload.” Thorin helped Bilbo into the boat. “Don’t start grumbling against orders, or something bad will happen to you.
As the boat was pulled across the stream, I leaned over the side to look at my reflection in the dark water. I was fat, maybe even fat enough for three dwarves, and unimportant compared to the rest of the party. They didn’t need me, and they clearly didn’t want me either…
The boat docked, and Thorin’s sour face appeared next to mine in the water’s reflection. His eyes narrowed as I shakily stood up. I wanted nothing more than to go home; I was sick of this.
Splash.
Bilbo shrieked, and the whole world went black.