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Bilbo felt…lost. The muted grays around him seemed to swirl and blur at the edges making him feel dizzy. In fact, he wasn’t sure where to lay blame for the pounding in his head. That or the voices whispering one over the other. Calling out to him, no not him, something…precious. Mine, mine, mine! Bilbo’s eyes flew open as he ripped the ring from his finger.
Sweat dripped down his forehead as he leaned back against the cool stone. Closing his eyes again, he tried to ease his nausea by focusing in on his harsh breathing that he slowly was able to even out. When he felt stable, his gaze drifted down to the piece of gold held tightly in his fist. Something was horribly wrong. He’s felt uncomfortable wearing his little trinket before, but it’s never been like this. And the funny part was, he didn’t even remember why he put it on this time.
Tears stabbed at his eyes as he tried to choke back the emotion wanting to bubble out of his throat. It was happening. Everyone had assumed he was immune to the pull. That hobbits clearly weren’t susceptible to such sickness. However, there had always been a prickle of doubt, especially when he had held onto the Arkenstone for so long. What if Bilbo carried the same disease of the mind as his husband, and it’s just taken this long for the gold to truly have an effect? Before he could fall into despair over this revelation, voices sounded in the corridor pushing him deeper into the alcove in order to hide from view.
“What do you mean you can’t find him?”
Bilbo peeked out just slightly to see Thorin pacing agitatedly.
“You know how he is, little bugger is slippery when he wants to be.” Nori grumbled.
“Take care of how you speak! That’s the Consort you’re talking about.” Thorin snarled, surprising both Bilbo and Nori.
It was after several moments of silence that Thorin came back to himself, shaking his head.
“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“Thorin, it’s me. Your Spymaster, your friend. What’s wrong?” Nori demanded, his arms crossed.
The king shook his head as he went back to pacing.
“I’m worried about him.” He admitted softly. “Bilbo’s been suffering such horrible nightmares lately. He won’t talk about them, but he wakes in the night screaming and crying and no amount of comfort seems to ease his burden.”
“How long has this been going on for?” Nori asked gently.
“Two weeks.” Thorin groaned, running a hand through his graying locks. “I feel like I’ve tried everything. I’ve sang to him, gotten up to make him tea, held him tight and yet…what?”
Nori had dropped his hands, staring at Thorin in something akin to fear had it been anyone else.
“Two weeks?” He repeated. “Two weeks exactly?”
“I don’t remember, Nori.” Thorin complained. “What does it matter?”
“Bofur got back exactly two weeks ago.”
“And that matters because…?”
Nori turned away rubbing his hand over his beard. Bilbo had never seen the dwarf look so agitated which honestly was causing cold to creep down his spine. This conversation had taken a most uncomfortable turn for the eavesdropper, but he found he couldn’t leave it either. He needed to know Nori’s thoughts. Perhaps it would be the answer to his problem.
“Bofur was delayed by three weeks. Three weeks, Thorin. And the Iron Hills’ dwarves said he had finished negotiations with them and was on his way back to Erebor well before that.”
“Perhaps he got lost.” Thorin shrugged.
“Bofur? With his stone sense?” Nori barked out a bitter laugh. “Not likely. Besides, he’s made that journey many times before. There’s something else too. He’s not…himself. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen him smile, he constantly brushes me off or acts annoyed, and he has this fixated look about him like he’s searching for something but doesn’t know what that could be.”
Thorin tilted his head before slowly reaching out to give Nori’s shoulder a squeeze.
“I don’t want to be insensitive but could this be in regards to your…arrangement?”
Bilbo had to cover his mouth to stop himself from gasping as Nori shoved Thorin against the wall with a knife at his throat.
“I may not have a traditional relationship, but how dare you insinuate he would leave me. What do you know?”
The silence stretched on much longer this time. The tension thick in the air as Thorin stared down at the seething dwarf with a grim look. Nori’s face went through a mixture of different facets before settling on shock and shame.
“I don’t know what came over me.” He apologized, sheathing the blade and dropping his head. “I’m sorry, My King.”
Thorin huffed a sigh.
“I think…the stress of dealing with our respective partners is getting to us.”
“And if not? If there’s something…nefarious afoot?” He asked softly.
Thorin flinched, but the fire of a warrior shined brightly still in his blue eyes.
“Then find it so we can crush it.”
Bilbo waited until he could no longer hear their retreating footsteps before he allowed himself to sink to the stone floor. His mind was reeling, and his eyes naturally traced the smooth surface of his ring. Was there something dark at home in their mountain? Strangely enough, it was a thought that didn’t fill him with dread like it should. Instead it was a burning, jealous desire to protect that which was his. His precious. And it was at that moment that Bilbo realized he needed help from an outside source. It was time to call for Gandalf.
***
The climb to the rookery was chilly with the threat of winter upon the mountain, but inside was kept warm and toasty. Roäc, son of Carc, was the official Chief of the Ravens for the King and by extent, the Consort. However, Bilbo had grown fond of Kuë, his mate, and it was her feet that swept down onto his arm, affectionately nipping at his curls.
“Consort.” She greeted.
“Kuë, I have a very special mission for you.” He began, as he tied his message onto her leg.
“Whom do I seek?” She hummed.
“Gandalf, the wandering wizard.”
“Tharkun usually cannot be found if he doesn’t wish to be.”
“I know.” Bilbo sighed, his fingers in her feathers shaking slightly. “But I don’t know what to do if you can’t.”
She cooed and rubbed her head against Bilbo’s own before hopping on the sill, shaking out her wings.
“Don’t worry Bilbo. I’ll find the Gray Pilgrim.”
She gave him one more affectionate nip before Bilbo threw open the shutters, and Kuë became nothing more than a dark shape against the sky. Bilbo stood there for a long time, watching her form disappear, and eventually just staring out at the wide world below. He tried not to dwell on Thorin and Nori’s conversation, but just the reminder of their names sent a sharp spike into his chest, his fingers drifting down to the smooth, warm gold in his pocket. A tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it. She had to find Gandalf. The wizard had to know what was wrong with him. He had to be able to fix this.
There was a crash behind him, and the ravens started to caw and shift, unnerved. Bilbo spun around though to find none other than Bofur. He forced a smile to his face, ready to greet his friend when the words paused on his tongue. Bofur looked sick. His eyes were sunken in dark shadows, his skin sallow and papery. Yet, he moved with a fervor. As if he were searching for something.
“He has this fixated look about him like he’s searching for something but doesn’t know what that could be.”
Bilbo gulped and took a nervous step back, his fist tightening around the ring. All of a sudden, Bofur looked up, as a predator sensing his prey.
“Do you have it, Halfling?” He snapped.
“I’m sorry?” Bilbo gasped, caught off-guard by it being Bofur’s voice, but it didn’t sound like Bofur.
“You must! You’ve had it this whole time! YOU LITTLE RAT!”
Bilbo immediately thought of his little ring, and he could feel it bite into his skin from how hard he clutched it. He pulled away from the demented dwarf. He had to get away. Bofur couldn’t have it. It was his. His precious. Bofur made a lunge for him, and the ravens immediately swooped down to Bilbo’s defense. It was all the opening Bilbo needed to slip the ring on his finger, and disappear.
***
The ravens relayed the exchange to the King, and Thorin was enraged. While he still felt a certain level of loyalty to a Company member, attacking Bilbo was inexcusable. There was currently a kingdom-wide hunt for Bofur, alive, most certainly. However, Bilbo watched the way Bifur, Bombur, and Nori shrunk away from the order, and furthermore, the miner was very popular in his guild. Bilbo doubted they were going to find him, and the dark cloud hanging above Erebor now seemed to choke the life of its people. Very unflattering comparisons of Thorin were made to his predecessor, and the seed of guilt buried itself deeper into his heart.
Bilbo paced back and forth in the sitting room of his suite. He had all but been ordered to remain in his rooms, and he felt like he was about to go insane. He needed to do something. Find Bofur, talk some sense into him, or at the very least be on the lookout for Kuë and Gandalf. Bilbo’s fingers brushed against the smooth golden treasure hidden deep in his overcoat’s pocket, and he closed his eyes tight to resist putting it on and going wherever he liked. Heaving a heavy sigh, he ran his free hand through his hair.
“Whatever am I going to do?”
“You can start with giving me the ring.”
Bilbo’s eyes snapped up at the same time he pulled his sword free from the scabbard of his belt. Dwalin’s self-defense lessons were paying off as he kept Bofur, or at least the creature wearing his friend’s face at a distance. He still looked sickly and pale. In fact, he almost looked like he had aged overnight, his eyes having a milky quality to them. But there was something more controlled in his posture this time which honestly made Bilbo even more anxious.
“How did you get in here?” He demanded.
‘Bofur’ smirked. “This dwarf has a sense about him. He can hear the stones, and I was able to find a back passageway that led me straight to you.”
Bilbo’s heart sunk as he realized his assessment was correct. This wasn’t Bofur.
“I could scream right now.” He declared. “And the guards would swarm you before you could even touch me.”
“But you won’t.” ‘Bofur’ countered, looking unimpressed. “So why don’t we save us both the headache, and you hand over what’s in your pocket right now?”
Bilbo snarled as his hand tightened around the ring to the point where it was painful. If this thing thought for one second that he would part with his precious. A single tear rolled down his cheek. Why did it have such a hold on him?
“You’ve done something? Haven’t you? Cursed the mountain or something.” He accused.
A wild grin spread across ‘Bofur’s’ face.
“No, stupid Halfling. My magic may be aggravating it, but you have no idea what it is you actually hold there. Its powers are so much greater than being able to disappear. Now, you can give it to me. Or I can take it from your lifeless corpse!”
‘Bofur’ lunged for him, and Bilbo immediately slipped on the ring, blending with the shadows. The crazed look had returned as he searched the room, trying to discover Bilbo’s hiding place.
“IT’S ONLY GOING TO GET WORSE!” He raved. “This kingdom of filthy, greedy dwarves will burn . You think the goldsickness of Thror’s line was bad? That ring you carry will have them all slaughtering each other for control of it, SLAUGHTERING YOU! Why I bet your king is just itching to get his hands back around your throat…”
Bilbo covered his mouth, trying to contain the sob tearing through his chest as he closed his eyes against the vile words spoken from the mouth of a friend. And yet, as much as his heart warred, he could see the truth in it. He saw Thorin and Nori once more, prepared to slit each other’s throats over a few simple words. If this ring was in fact the cause…it couldn’t stay here, he couldn’t stay here. Because as much as he loved Thorin, he couldn’t bear to part with his…Bilbo’s eyes flew open as something strong and unbending settled inside him. His glare settled on the golden band on his middle finger before yanking it off.
When ‘Bofur's’ eyes settled on him, Bilbo met it, cool and calculating. Exactly how the Consort of Erebor should be.
“The dwarf whose body you inhabit, is he still in there?” He demanded.
The dwarf’s eyes narrowed, almost looking confused by Bilbo’s question.
“Does Bofur still exist, or should I kill you where you stand, Spector? ”
“He’s still here…” It finally growled.
“Then I have a counteroffer for you. Tell me where to meet you, and I will deliver the ring directly to you. But only if you release Bofur back to us.”
The dwarf narrowed his eyes as if trying to suss out the way Bilbo was attempting to trick him before a cruel grin stole across his face.
“You have nothing to bargain with, Halfling. I can slit your throat in the night here or on the road and take it. What makes you think I need you?”
Bilbo smirked. “You don’t. I know I’m expendable, but the thing is: I’ve already written to Gandalf to come to Erebor.”
‘Bofur’s’ face fell, turning an even sicker shade of gray. Probably recalling the moment he caught Bilbo in the rookery.
“I’ve evaded you this long. You know it won’t be that easy to kill the Consort inside his own Mountain while in possession of the ring. And when Gandalf gets here? Then you’ve lost your chance completely. On the other hand, I can accompany you willingly and secret this ring right under his nose. It’s your choice.”
The dwarf growled, as his milky eyes burned with hatred. “I do not fear Gandalf Greyhame.”
“Then I suppose we’ve reached a stalemate.”
Bilbo moved to slip the ring back on, and ‘Bofur’ jumped, reaching out to stop him. Bilbo quirked a brow as he held the ring a hair-breadth away from his finger. The glare Bilbo received was thunderous.
“Fine. Have it your way.” He spat. “We leave in the dead of night.”
“And where are we going?” Bilbo demanded. “After all, you must give me some insurance.”
‘Bofur’ hesitated before giving a single word in response, slipping back through the secret passage. The air expelled from Bilbo’s body in a shaky sigh as his knees wobbled. He didn’t know if he could actually follow through with this. This possessing entity scared him, and he was certain it would have no qualms about killing him. Bilbo was going to have to play this perfectly. His bluff about Gandalf bought him some time, although he hoped with all his heart that was the truth. And the mere idea of giving up his golden trinket had his head pounding in protest. But he had to do it. For Bofur, for Erebor, for Thorin, and even for himself.
As quickly as he could, Bilbo wrote two letters. One to Thorin, apologizing profusely for making this decision without him and reminding him of just how much Bilbo loved him should the worst happen. The second letter was to Nori, promising not to come back without Bofur healthy and hale, as well as telling him their location. Rhûn. The Sea of Rhûn. He hid them both in his desk knowing as soon as it was realized he was gone, Thorin would have the room inspected with a fine-tooth comb. He needed to buy them a little bit of a headstart after all, or else the spector wouldn’t release Bofur.
After that, he immediately went to work packing a bag for the trip. There was something bitter in the sense that he had always hoped his next journey would be after Thorin retired so they could travel the world together. Instead, he was sneaking to the barracks to rob their soldiers of cram and jerky coming to terms with the fact that he most likely wouldn’t be eating well.
From there, he had one more stop to make, and it broke his heart to even consider it. Thorin’s years on the road just made him too light a sleeper. Taking some herbs from Oin’s store, Bilbo began to make a pot of tea contemplating how far beyond the realms of trust he was taking this. He didn’t think Thorin would ever forgive him, as he wiped the falling tears off his cheeks. However, he played the part well enough, and he was certain it was Thorin’s lack of sleep that contributed to his dulled suspicions. After Thorin had drunk enough of the herbs that he would soon be asleep for the remainder of the night, he couldn’t stop himself from cuddling Thorin’s head. The tea clattered to the ground as Thorin’s bleary blue eyes struggled to remain focused on him.
“Ukradê (my greatest heart)...why…?” Thorin breathed.
“It’s my fault, Thorin. And I can fix it. I can make it all better, and I don’t expect you to understand or…f-forgive me. But I have to do this. I can’t be responsible for Erebor burning again. So I hope this isn’t goodbye, but if it is, please know…you have made me the happiest hobbit in the world. Astû dulelê. (You were my dream of all dreams.) ”
And Bilbo meant that. Even if he could feel the weight of his little ring in his pocket. As if it could remind him of his love for it as well. He leaned in to kiss Thorin feeling his husband’s lips go slack as he finally succumbed to sleep. It was at that point that Bilbo finally allowed his sobs to escape. He cuddled into Thorin’s chest, crying over a future they may not have anymore until he couldn’t wait any longer. It was time for him to leave.
The spector was, of course, quick to mock his plight, and wearing his friend’s grin, it made Bilbo even more irritable.
“Did you promise the dwarf king you’d write?”
“Didn’t really see the point. I figured my errand wouldn’t take long.” Bilbo snarked before turning to saddle his pony.
“No it won’t, but that doesn’t mean you’ll return from it, Halfling.”
Bilbo should never have turned his back on ‘Bofur’. He assumed it was the dwarf’s mattock splitting his head in two, but that was all the time he had to reason on it as he was unconscious before he even hit the ground.
***
When Bilbo awoke, his first reaction was surprise as waking anywhere but Yavanna’s Gardens seemed out of the realm of possibility. However, the splitting headache, the nausea from the gentle sway and bounce of his ride, and the horse hair tickling his nose indicated he was very much alive. However, that wasn’t the strange part. What caught his attention the most was the rising sun hitting his eyes…but it wasn’t the direction they were headed.
“We’re going south…” He slurred.
“Still alive then, Halfling?”
Bilbo jerked himself into a sitting position, only to pull at the ropes holding his hands to the saddle horn. His head shot pain at the movement at the same time his stomach gave a mighty lurch. He was spilling the contents of his stomach off to the side before passing out once more. When he awoke again, the sun was much higher in the sky which certainly wasn’t helping with his headache, but at least his stomach felt stronger.
“You could have just killed me…but you didn’t.” Bilbo accused, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth.
“You’ve inconvenienced me enough that I thought you would make a nice snack for the orcs.”
Panic began to set in as he realized it had nothing to do with Bofur potentially fighting his way back in control.
“We’re not going to Rhûn.” He stated weakly.
“No, I’m afraid your dwarves that you forewarned for back-up will not make it in time to assist you. We ride for Dol Guldur, Halfling.”
Dol Guldur. Where only foul things reside now. Gandalf having explained the fight for his life at the same time he regrettably informed Thorin of Thrain’s demise. Bilbo started pulling at the ropes around his wrists, hissing when the tight bonds chafed at the skin.
“Accept your fate and relax.” The spector grinned back at him from where Bilbo’s pony was tied to the back of his pony’s saddle. “I’m not about to let you escape from me.”
Bilbo wondered if he had already removed the ring from Bilbo’s person which really stirred him up before he slumped over as his headache became too much. Bilbo tried twisting to press his side up against the pony to see if he could feel the imprint, but couldn’t be certain. A scream tore its way from him which had the spector snapping at him to be quiet. Bilbo snarled wanting to scream for help at the top of his lungs in spite. However, he knew they had to be too far south of Esgaroth for there to be another living soul that could help him. Otherwise he was certain he would be gagged as well as bound.
Bilbo’s head hit the neck of his pony in defeat causing the poor beast to startle. Getting thrown from the pony probably wouldn’t improve his situation any, but he thought it might at least inconvenience the spector. If only his head wasn’t hurting so much he might be able to think of a plan. One that got rid of these stupid ropes! Bilbo bit down on them in frustration only to feel some of the sinew snap away. Bilbo paused for a moment, before renewing his efforts with full vigor. It was slow going, and his jaw aching after a few hours of it with little progress, but he couldn’t give up. Every time he snapped through another twine, he tested his bonds. Looser, but not quite there yet. In need of a break, he decided to engage with the entity.
“So what is it, exactly?” He croaked, starting to wish he had access to his waterskin. “The ring I mean.”
‘Bofur’ chuckled darkly. “An ancient artifact of great power is all you need to know.”
“And why Bofur? Why did you take my friend?”
“He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. I had thought long and hard about the events following the reclamation of Erebor. Even gold tainted with dragon stink shouldn’t have caused the dwarf king to lose his mind. Not that fast at least. And then there was Azog making his march on the mountain along with Thranduil who hadn’t left his woods in nearly a century…I was fairly certain of what the mountain held. Then it was just a matter of getting a hold of someone who could get me inside.”
Bilbo was afraid he was going to be sick again. His ring was what caused Thorin’s rapid descent into gold sickness? No, it couldn’t be true. This thing had to be lying to him…for some reason. ‘Bofur’ gave a cough, and Bilbo was able to focus his blurring vision on the slumped figure in the saddle ahead of him.
“You promised you would let him go.” Bilbo reminded.
“And so I will.” The spector rasped. “As soon as my retrieving party reaches us, I’ll flee the dwarf’s body for good.”
“You mean as soon as your orcs tear Bofur apart.” Bilbo growled.
“You’re not as stupid as you act, Halfling.”
Bilbo pulled frantically at his bonds again with renewed fervor, only to slump over when the dizziness persisted. It still didn’t make sense. Why have a prisoner at all? That’s when a thought occurred to him.
“You can’t touch it. Can you?”
“ I most certainly can. And I’ve heard Aulë’s children possess a certain level of hardiness when it comes to objects of magical origins. But this body is wearing out too quickly, and I don’t trust the orcs with it. So like it or not, I need you to bear the Ring for just a little longer.”
Bilbo’s mind was racing with the information, only having nowhere to put it. Nothing helped! For the first time in his life, he didn’t have an idea. Of course, the mind numbing pain at the back of his skull certainly didn’t help any. Gleaning all that he felt he could from the spector, Bilbo leaned forward to tear at his ropes some more. He must have fallen asleep, for the next moment he was aware, the sun was just about set, and they had stopped for the night.
He groggily forced himself to sit back up only to feel a knife at his throat.
“Don’t make any sudden moves.” The Spector warned.
He fumbled at the knot holding Bilbo’s hands to the saddle, sneering at the hobbit’s attempts at freedom. He loosened the hold just enough to get around the horn before pulling his bonds tightly around his wrists again. Bilbo hissed as it aggravated his bruised and torn skin. The knife was put away, and Bilbo was bodily dragged out of the saddle, and thrown to the ground. Before he could get his bearings, a new set of rope started to tighten around his ankles. Satisfied that Bilbo wasn’t going anywhere, the spector started rummaging through their packs. A waterskin was held to his lips, and Bilbo didn’t care how demeaning it was, he drank greedily. Same went for when a bit of cram was held to his mouth, but he couldn’t eat more than a few pieces before his stomach protested again.
The spector laughed at his misfortune, but left him alone, believing Bilbo to be completely helpless at this point. It certainly wasn’t far from the truth, but he seemed to forget something rather important on Bilbo’s person. And now that Bilbo was in a better position to search for it, he dug deep into his pockets, sighing in relief when his fingers rested on it. He had to resist the urge to slip it on right that second as invisibility certainly wouldn’t help with his bonds. Still, he certainly felt better clutching it in his hand. Evil or not, it wasn’t like the ring had ever harmed Bilbo…in fact, it seemed rather fond of him. His precious would assist him like it always did. And then Bofur would pay…
A steady stream of curses had Bilbo looking up at the dwarf. His eyes couldn’t make out very much in the dark, but a familiar caw had him looking skyward.
“Kuë…” He mumbled in relief.
“Your dwarves aren’t as stupid as I thought.” The spector growled as the raven gave another caw of reassurance before backtracking north. “We ride again, Halfling.”
Determination set inside Bilbo. Thorin or Nori or Gandalf or all the above were out there right now, riding to save him. The least he could do is buy them some more time. He tensed, waiting for just the right moment. As soon as the spector was within range, Bilbo kicked out at his knees. The dwarf gave a cry, stumbling, and Bilbo used the momentum to hook behind his ankles to make sure he went down. As soon as he landed, Bilbo rolled over on top of him, his hands surrounding the dwarf’s throat as he squeezed. Bofur struggled beneath him at first before slumping in defeat, a wide grin on his face.
“I suppose doing this for your friend…it was all for nothing then.” Bofur wheezed, alternating between trying to laugh and hacking in protest. “I told you…Halfling…”
Horror swept through his body. What was he doing? He was going to kill Bofur! And all because…he looked at the ring still clutched tightly in his hand. An outline of the band already forming a mark pressed into Bofur’s throat. Sensing his hesitation, the spector grabbed him by his shirt front, flipping them over. Panic tore through his very being as Bofur landed one punch, making Bilbo see stars. He knew the next one was going to send him back into unconsciousness. Maybe that’s why he did what he did next. After all, it made no logical sense. He could only vaguely recall the spector’s point about dwarves and the ring after all. He just knew he still really wanted to kill Bofur, and he didn’t want the ring anywhere near him because of it. So as Bofur’s punch came down towards Bilbo, he slipped his little golden band, the very one he clinged to so tightly, onto the dwarf’s other hand.
There was a burst of light, and the spector started screaming. Bilbo heard, more than saw, the ponies get spooked and bolted. He couldn’t find it in himself to care. He watched the still form of the spector, no Bofur, laid out before him, and slowly began to crawl his way towards him. Each little movement caused a fresh wave of pain to bloom behind his eyelids. However, he was determined. He barely even registered as Bofur seemed to deage before him back to the dwarf he knew and loved. He didn’t even consider the dagger in the dwarf’s belt to free himself. He didn’t stop until he reached his hand, pulling the ring free.
“Mine.” He groaned happily, before collapsing and passing out once more.
***
Bilbo. Bilbo, wake up. BILBO!
The hobbit gave a mighty groan before slowly peeling his eyes open. From the fading darkness, he reasoned it was just a few hours before dawn.
“Bilbo? Are you with me?”
Bilbo gasped sharply as he immediately tried to scoot away from that voice.
“Whoa, whoa! Hey! It’s me. Bilbo, it’s really me this time.”
Bilbo looked up into the dark eyes and easy smile of his friend, but he couldn’t find any hint of deception. It was really and truly Bofur.
“Thank Mahal.” Bilbo groaned as he lay his head back on the ground.
“Bilbo…what you did…I don’t know if I can ever thank you enough.” Bofur admitted, his voice wobbling.
Bilbo smiled as he reached out, with his thankful unbound hands now, and gave Bofur’s arm a squeeze.
“Don’t mention it.”
Bofur laughed wetly. “No, I will. For every day and beyond. I figure Thorin’s most likely going to have my head for this, but I get to die as me and that’s just…”
Bofur immediately burst into sobs, and Bilbo forced his aching body up so he could pull Bofur into a hug. He knew his friend was upset, but he could only feel relief. Relief in knowing it was finally over.
The sound of pounding feet and what Bilbo immediately recognized as a warg cry had them both stiffening. Bofur got to his feet, pulling Bilbo along with him. Only as soon as he was upright, Bilbo felt like swooning. The ache at the back of his head hadn’t lessened any, and the swelling around his left eye from Bofur’s punch seemed as if it were pulsing.
“Run.” Bilbo ordered the dwarf.
Bofur looked down at him sharply.
“They won’t kill me. That spector possessing you told me as much. Now, run! Kuë was here. The Ereborian army can’t be far behind. Tell them what happened.”
Bofur shook his head. “I’m not leaving you.”
“I can barely stand, and you’re in no position to carry me. There’s no sense in dying for me!”
Bofur gave him a bitter smirk. “No sense, but plenty of honor. You’ve lived with us long enough to know that.”
Another howl was released. This one, much closer. Bofur’s brows knit together before slinging Bilbo’s arm over his shoulder and dragging him bodily towards the tree line. Bilbo tried to protest, especially when sweat began to build on Bofur’s forehead and his panting came sharper, but the stubborn dwarf was determined. As soon as they reached the first tree, Bofur began to boost Bilbo up into it. Bilbo groaned as it took all his energy not to tumble backwards.
“Bofur…I can’t…”
“You can. And you will. Get as high up there as you can, and then use the ring to hide yourself.”
Bilbo gave a jolt, hugging his ring tighter to himself when he heard the dwarf talk about it, which in turn gave him the energy to get settled on the first branch.
“What about you?” Bilbo asked.
“I’m going to draw them off.”
Before Bilbo could protest, Bofur gave him a wink and a large grin. And somehow it struck something deep inside him. It was such a Bofur-like thing to do. Any trace of doubt that he still clung to was gone, and Bilbo found himself reaching out for his friend. Knowing this could very well be the last time they ever see each other. And then Bofur was running. Bilbo followed the dwarf with his eyes as the sun finally started to stretch its first rays. Then the first warg tore through the treeline after him.
“NO!” Bilbo shouted as he felt a tug on his foot.
He looked down to see a sneering orc face looking back. Bilbo kicked him in the face with his other foot, but that didn’t stop the next orc from taking its place. Adrenaline coursed through Bilbo’s body giving him the strength to climb higher out of the orcs’ reach.
“Come on down, Halfling. We promise we won’t hurt you.” One of them cackled.
“Perhaps we just cut the whole tree down?” The next one teased.
“Our master wants him untouched and unspoiled…for now.”
Their attempts to lasso him out of the tree with rope and chain nearly had him slipping and falling the rest of the way down. His heart was pounding so harshly, and his ring sang to him to use it. Even though there was no reason to. His luck could not last forever though, and his hand became tangled in one of their attempts to get him down. Bilbo cried out as he was pulled from the tree, only to land in the arms of the orcs below.
Bilbo struggled with all his might as his arms were crushed against his chest, the remainder of the rope used to bind his other wrist.
“What if I just take a finger? Surely he won’t be missing that…”
“Or one of his pointed ears. What if he’s mostly intact?”
Bilbo could feel the hot, putrid breath of his captors against his cheek and neck and he just knew at any moment, this would be it. He would be mutilated beyond recognition and then dragged bodily before the spector. In the end, that possessing entity would win. Suddenly, a ‘twarp’ sounded before silence reigned around them. One of the orcs fell over dead. An Elvish arrow sticking out of its head. There was a series of confused orc noises before one of them slung Bilbo over its shoulder, prepared to make a run for it. A dwarven handaxe cut straight through the air and into its back. Bilbo went rolling away as the orc collapsed. He turned his head just in time to see his family joining the fray. Kili and Tauriel dancing around each other with their short swords, Dwalin slicing through any orc neck he could find with his axe, and then…there was Thorin. Tears slid down his face as he slumped in relief.
The moment their eyes met, Thorin hacked through the remaining orc in his way before leaving the fight to the remainder of their rescue party, which of course didn’t last long. Sliding on his knees, he pulled Bilbo into his arms kissing his face all over. Although, he left the swollen side of his face alone after Bilbo hissed in pain.
“I’m so beyond angry at you right now.” Thorin confessed, his blue eyes like blocks of frozen ice. “You don’t ever make decisions like that without me again. We are One now, Azyungel (Love of all loves).”
Bilbo leaned his head against Thorin’s chest, taking comfort from his husband where he could get it.
“Please…tell me it worked at least.”
Thorin gave Bilbo a nice, long lingering kiss as he sliced through the rope holding Bilbo’s hand with his knife, replacing the bonds with warm sturdy fingers rubbing circulation back into his own. It was almost too much compared to how he had been treated for the last twenty-four hours.
“Yes. As soon as you both left, it was like a veil was lifted. But ghivashel (treasure of all treasures)...”
“Bofur!” Bilbo suddenly cried out. “Thorin, he tried to protect me! Please tell me that he didn’t…”
“Nah, I’m still here, you stubborn hobbit.”
Bilbo looked over to see Bofur limping his way, leaning all his weight on Nori. Other than a bleeding bandage around his leg, Bofur seemed fine. Bofur nodded at Bilbo’s assessment.
“Aye, bugger caught me in its teeth. Probably would have had my leg torn clean off if it wasn’t for…”
Nori tightened his hold around Bofur looking uncharacteristically vulnerable as he buried his head in Bofur’s neck, kissing on his collarbone. Bofur pulled Nori into him tightly, closing his eyes, as he buried his nose in the other dwarf’s locks. Something about the rare display of affection between the duo had Bilbo’s heart swelling.
“Bofur.” Thorin stated, sharing in Bilbo’s relief. “I owe you an apology.”
“No.” Bofur immediately denied, his mouth pulled into a straight line. “My King, I…that thing meant to harm Bilbo. I would have done the same…if it meant keeping the ones I loved safe.”
Thorin nodded, not feeling it necessary to offer up anymore than that, but Bilbo knew with the way his hold lessened that Thorin had forgiven Bofur. Perhaps they were well on their way to forgiving and forgetting the whole nasty business completely. Then Bilbo reached into his pocket.
“All these orcs have the same symbol. A white hand on their breastplates.” Dwalin assessed kicking at an orc carcass. “Does that mean anything to you, Wizard?”
“It means we have a new enemy I did not foresee.”
Bilbo gasped as Gandalf came into view, only to cry out in happiness as Kuë swept down to land on Thorin’s shoulder. She nipped lightly at Bilbo’s curls.
“I was able to find the Grey Pilgrim, my Consort. And it seems just in time.”
“You did well, Kuë.” He mused quietly. “But how did you find us so quickly. My note…”
“Aye, well we weren’t just going to take the word of some possessing demon now, were we?” Nori interrupted, rolling his eyes. “I thought you had better sense about you.”
Bofur shushed him with a kiss to his cheek.
“We sent a raven to scout ahead.” Thorin took over. “But when it became apparent that there was no sign of anyone passing that direction, we sent scouts out all over. That got us following you south, and it wasn’t until we reached just beyond the borders of Esgaroth that we found Gandalf.”
The wizard’s eyes were twinkling, but his words were solemn. “You never cease to surprise me, my friend. Although I wish this adventure had treated you better.”
“Gandalf.” Bilbo started, finding a knot forming in his throat and his sweaty hand tightening around the ring. “Am I sick?”
Thorin pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s head, but Gandalf just shook his head sadly.
“No, but I don’t think you should be holding onto such cursed objects anymore, Bilbo Baggins.”
Gandalf produced a seemingly innocent box, holding it out before him. All of a sudden, Bilbo’s entire demeanor changed. He struggled out of Thorin’s grip, clutching the ring tightly to his chest. Kuë started squawking in protest, but Bilbo ignored her.
“Why should I have to give it up?” He demanded. “I’ve been keeping it safe all this time. Do you think you could do any better, Wizard ?”
Gandalf’s brows knit together in disapproval at the same time Thorin watched him with worry in his eyes. Bilbo scowled up at them. He wasn’t about to be coerced into separating himself from his precious. He wouldn’t. It was his! And he would fight anyone who…Bilbo suddenly became aware of Bofur, kneeling before him. His eyes, hard but not unsympathetic.
“Bilbo, you gave that thing away once to save my life. You can do it again. Please. Help us, help you. You are far too good and strong to let a little goldsickness beat you.”
Bilbo started shaking. It was goldsickness. He knew that. That’s why he called for Gandalf in the first place. His hand loosened just slightly around the ring as he looked around at the faces of the people who loved him. And he loved them…perhaps even more than a little piece of jewelry. Sapping at the last bit of his strength, he extended his hand, tilting it and letting the ring fall into Gandalf’s little box. Faster than Bilbo could blink, Gandalf closed and locked the box, hiding it away in a bag under his cloak. There was a sense of clarity Bilbo hadn’t felt in a long time, as he curled back up into Thorin’s arms.
“You are an extraordinary hobbit, Bilbo Baggins. May the reign of King and Consort Under the Mountain continue uninhibited from this point on.”
“That’s it then?” Thorin asked, watching Bilbo with worry. “It won’t claim him again?”
“As I said, it was not Bilbo, but the Ring itself that was at fault here. Perhaps a good meal, some good company, and a good rest is all our hobbit needs now.”
While kind, Gandalf’s words sounded like wishful thinking to Bilbo. Still he would take them. Seeing as Bilbo and Bofur had injuries that needed tending to, everyone helped to load them up and take them back to Erebor. Unwilling to be parted from his hobbit even amongst his friends, Thorin swung Bilbo up in the saddle before him. Bilbo of course had no objections feeling safe nestled against Thorin’s chest with his thick arms surrounding him.
“Are you still quite cross with me?” He asked softly.
Thorin hesitated, bending his head slightly to kiss Bilbo’s curls.
“Can I say yes, and also that I feel too drained to do anything more about it than hold you close until you have fully recovered?”
Bilbo gave a big yawn as he pushed his head in the crook of Thorin’s shoulder.
“I think that’s more than understandable.”
Thorin chuckled, whispering tender words of love against Bilbo’s neck as his body seemed to get heavier and his thoughts lighter.
“Pleasant dreams, mudùmê (my comfort).”
Bilbo barely managed a happy hum of approval before drifting into the first peaceful sleep he’s managed in weeks.