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It was blisteringly hot and it had been so for a fortnight, it hadn't rained in that time and the ground was hard and unforgiving. The ponies hooves swirled clouds of dust, enveloping their riders in a haze of heat, sweat and coughing. Flowers wilted beneath the merciless sun, the grass dry and crackling underfoot.
Bilbo sighed and wiped his forehead for the umpteenth time that day. A velvet waistcoat was definitely not designed to be worn in this kind of heat. It rarely got this warm in the Shire, and when it did Bilbo usually stayed in the shade with a good book. He wasn't used to this much physical activity, and in this heat no less.
The pony shifted beneath him and Bilbo clutched at the reins tightly, his knuckles going white.
There were only two things he hated in this world; ponies and swimming.
As a rule, respectable Hobbits never went swimming. Hobbits weren't good swimmers, and most could only hold their breath for ten seconds at the longest. 'Respectable Hobbits don't go traipsing off after dwarves either' he thought to himself with a snort. His reputation would be in shreds when he got back. No doubt Lobelia was having a field day.
As long as she stayed away from the cutlery drawer things might be salvageable.
He was pulled from his thoughts by the Company coming to a halt in front of a stream.
"We'll stop to let the ponies rest and to refill our water supplies" Thorin said shortly. The heat had made him irritable, and most were avoiding him for fear of his temper. Bilbo dismounted and handed to reins to Gloin. He decided to sit down under an old beech a few paces away from the stream. Leaning against the trunk, his eyes roamed around the landscape.
It was a pretty enough area, a few bushes here and there, a shallow gorge filled with a shimmering stream. The water seemed shallow enough, perhaps about waist height for a Hobbit. Small fish darted here and there, hunting the pond skaters skimming over the surface. If he closed his eyes, he could believe he was back home. He settled up against the tree, half dozing.
Some of the dwarves decided to wash off in the stream or at least make an attempt to clean the grime of dirt and sweat off. Kili was trying to find the right angle to flick water into Fili's eye when he noticed something. Their burglar leaned up against a tree a few paces away from the tree, obviously half-asleep.
This was too good to pass up.
He nudged Fili and motioned towards Bilbo. His brother nodded, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
Bilbo jumped as he felt a clammy grip around his wrists. Before he could realize what was going on, he was pulled into the stream.
The cold was shocking, and Bilbo struggled to come up for air, but Kili's grip was strong. A cold bolt of panic shot down his spine, and he thrashed desperately, anything to loosen that iron grasp. His clothes were heavy and the water made moving even more difficult. Dwalin chuckled slightly, "The lad's like a cat in a bath"
Bilbo's lungs were burning, the beating of his heart thudding in his ears. His strength was ebbing away like the tide receding. His movements slowed, panic clogging his veins.
"Kili, I don't think he's moving" horror clung to the edge of Fili's voice. Kili released him abruptly. Bilbo made a desperate grab for the bank, clinging to the stones. His hands were shaking violently, his curls slicked to his head and falling into his eyes. His breath in heavy gasps, almost sobs.
Nori grabbed his wrist and pulled him out of the stream. Bilbo collapsed in a heap, still panting heavily.
A giddy rush of relief at being alive surged through him, quickly followed by a hot stab of anger. He turned to face Kili, but Thorin had obviously decided to get there first.
"What were you thinking" his voice was level, but the cold look in Thorin's eyes was unmistakeable. "You endangered the life of our burglar for what? A childish prank? You insisted you were mature enough to join the quest, but you are casting serious doubt over that. I expect more from you, I expect more from all of you"
Dwalin had the grace to look sheepish.
"We'll make camp here for tonight" with that he turned and went to discuss their route with Gandalf.
A few hours later, Bilbo was sitting next to a campfire, a blanket around his shoulders. Dori and Ori sitting on either side. Bilbo had learned the hard way that Dori was the mother of all mother hens, and the dwarrow wasn't about to let Bilbo out of his sight just yet.
Footsteps, and a familiar pair of boots in front of him. He looked up to see Kili. The dwarrow looked contrite.
"Bilbo?"
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry"