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Chapter Five
It had been two nights since Kíli had been abducted, and no further clues had been uncovered relating to his whereabouts. The Dwarves grew increasingly angry as they scoured the many miles around their camp for the youngest of their Company, none however were more angry than Fíli, who was in a state of inconsolable rage. His anger spurred him on though, he would not rest until his brother was found. Fíli had sworn to protect his younger sibling, no matter what, no matter that Kíli held a lower status than he, and yet he had been whisked away right from under his nose. The fury Fíli felt was, though the Company did not know this, directly mostly at himself, for his failure to guard his kin. Bilbo had watched the Dwarves closely, since he was forbidden to aid with the wider search, and was at all times accompanied, and observed Fíli's turmoil, but decided that it would be more effective to allow the Dwarf Prince to be motivated by his rage than to seek to calm him. Bilbo had his own issues to sort out.
He had felt it growing heavier in his chest, the secret. It nagged at him constantly, eating away at him like a cancer. He knew. He knew what happened to Kíli, he knew that Sherlock Holmes had him. He knew Kíli was in grave danger. Bilbo had tried to convince himself that his information would help no-one, they already knew he had been kidnapped and that was enough. But it simply wasn't so.
On the night of his disappearance, soon after the Dwarves dispatched into the forest to hunt for him, Nori had found Kíli's bow, snapped in two, lying on the forest floor. This was what made them sure he had been abducted. Nori had returned the broken bow to Thorin, and in that moment as Bilbo stood beside him, he saw, not anger, but defeat come over Thorin's face. It was that look of sheer despair that destroyed so Bilbo in the days that followed, and stopped him from looking his lover in the eye. Thorin became as driven as his eldest nephew though, and would return at ridiculous times to Bilbo's tent when he was not out searching for his missing nephew, keen to ensure the Burglar's safety. It was on this second night that Bilbo made his conclusion on what to say.
It was as far into the dark of night as it would be, and Bilbo slept soundly until the sound of his tent door unzipping roused him. After a moment of adrenaline, he made out the bedraggled outline of Thorin Oakenshield, once his eyes had adjusted.
"I startled you?" Thorin grumbled. His voice was hoarse, but full of concern.
"What? No, no." said Bilbo, sitting up and clearing his throat, "No news of- of Kíli?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all... Bilbo, where could he be?"
"Thorin-" he began, his mind rushing with ways to say what was on his mind, "-Come here."
The Dwarf zipped shut the door behind him and slid up next to his love. Bilbo's eyes rested for a moment upon Thorin's filthy boots on the bed sheets, but he said nothing of this. He allowed his hand to wander up and touch the side of Thorin's face, his fingers brushing gently across the dark hair. He smiled meekly, as Thorin took Bilbo's hand from his face, and pressed it tight against his own heart. With his other hand he took hold of Bilbo's back and held his tired body tight to the Burglar. With Thorin's face now buried in his shoulder, Bilbo sighed, breathing in deeply the rough, rugged and bold scent of Thorin's hair and his clothes.
"Kíli will be found, and saved, and we will continue on to take back Erebor, like it's meant to be." Bilbo said, "That I will promise you."
"He must be so afraid... He has not the lion-heart of his brother."
"Kíli must keep faith." he said, "And so must you, Thorin."
"He could be dead already."
Bilbo's stomach plunged at the words coming from Thorin's mouth, and the dark resignation he said them with.
"Those thoughts must not be considered. When a comrade is taken by the enemy, it is courage that will see them rescued, not fear. I swear to you Kíli will be okay."
"You sound so certain." said Thorin.
"I am." Bilbo confirmed, before worrying that he had said too much.
"Your faith is a great asset to me." Thorin said, "Bilbo Baggins, where would I be without you?"
Bilbo smiled softly. "You'd have been fine."
"I would have survived, but I would be but a shadow of the Dwarf I am now."
The words stayed with Bilbo. Thorin, though he meant well, was an understated individual, much like Sherlock, so expressions of affection meant all the more to Bilbo when they happened. Bilbo smiled a little, until the knowledge that he was keeping the secret from Thorin hit him as though he had been punched in the chest.
"Thorin, I love you. So, so much." said Bilbo quietly, "Remember that."
"I do. Always."
"... Good. And- and Thorin?"
"Yes?"
"I-" Bilbo sighed, "I'm so sorry."
It broke Bilbo to keep those words from Thorin. They were so close, on the edge of his tongue, yet impossible to speak. Bilbo could not speak of being a soldier when he acted as such a coward, but he knew he would have to betray one of them, whether it be Thorin or Sherlock.
Bilbo eventually met Thorin's gaze.
"It is not your doing." said the Dwarf.
'Oh but it is,' thought Bilbo. 'It is all my doing.'
Tears burned in Bilbo's eyes which he prayed would not fall. It would not do for Thorin to see him like this. Thorin pulled Bilbo's face close to his own, and Bilbo's attention was drawn to the slight parting of his lover's lips. Briefly forgetting his worries, he allowed Thorin to hold him tight as Bilbo's eyes closed and mouth opened a little, so that their breaths mingled in the cold air. Thorin's own eyes closed, and from their Thorin ran a hand through Bilbo's hair as he pressed his lips against the Burglar's. He kissed hard, with all the passion and desire of a Dwarf who had but one night left to love. Bilbo's heart melted at the feeling of their warm lips exchanging kisses, and Thorin's nose digging into his cheek slightly. Bilbo parted his lips further, and Thorin's tongue pushed in, exploring and owning every inch of him. Their tongues brushed against each other, and Bilbo's little body began to tremble with the intensity of the moment. Thorin drew his tongue out slowly, and regarded Bilbo's figure with curiosity.
"What is it, Bilbo? What is wrong with you?"
"I- I don't know."
Thorin lay down and brought Bilbo down with him, and wrapped his arms tightly around the burglar until the trembling stopped.
"Don't give up on Kíli, ok?" said Bilbo, "Promise me that. Promise me we won't move on with quest before we get him back."
"That was already the plan. But I promise you."
"Good. We will get him back, no matter what it takes."
Thorin kissed Bilbo's hair, and Bilbo felt his grip tighten for a moment and then loosen, which Bilbo knew meant he was already deeply asleep.
So that was the conclusion he had come to, to tell him little truths that meant nothing on the scale of what he knew. Bilbo was disgusted at himself.
Another two days passed without incident, by which point the Company was positively bloodthirsty, despite their deep confusion. They had searched and searched the entirety of the old forest, and all the moors and meadows around it, even stretching to the farmland half a day's pony ride to reach. Bilbo said little in that time, helping cook and gather firewood and look after the Dwarves. Fíli often confided in him, taking to pacing back and forth and speaking at length about how confused he was and who had said and done what that day, trying to piece to gather scraps of information. Bilbo listened and nodded.
Bofur tried to boost the morality of the group, telling stories by the fire and playing his penny-whistle just out of the way enough that they did not find it annoying. It did not work, though sometimes they would pretend that they were in better spirits.
Many of the Dwarves simply spent the evenings when they were not out looking for Kíli making vows about the sticky end his captor would meet, vows that sent shivers through Bilbo. Thorin kept a relatively clear head in front of the Company, mapping out the area on the ground and instructing small groups of Dwarves to different sections of the land, and Bilbo admired this approach, but by the time the Dwarf King clamoured into Bilbo's tent in the nights, he was weak and despairing, desperate to be held and loved.
Thorin's map was positioned on the ground just behind the logs the Dwarves sat on around the fire, and several times a day he added to it, and it grew ever more illustrious and detailed. He would sit, grumbling and muttering to himself, adding sticks and leaves and pebbles to mark what areas had been searched. Bilbo would sometimes watch him as he went about his business, also wishing he knew were Sherlock and Kíli were hidden.
When the cry went out that late morning about what had happened, Bilbo was dumbstruck, positively confused, yet unsurprised. It caused havoc among the Dwarves, and took but seconds for them all to know what had happened. Thorin's map had been sabotaged. The markers had been cleared off, and one had been added, indicating a point some five or so miles into the most dangerous part of the wood, and the least explored- a silver five pence piece, stained with blood.
Once they had all seen the map, the Dwarves sprung to action, donning their armour and gathering their weapons- swords, axes, knives, everything. Bilbo felt a rush of adrenaline, it was so like his army days, until he remembered that all these weapons were readied with the intention of being used against Sherlock. No- no, he had to stop them! They would kill him, or he them. Either way Bilbo had to take control. But before he could even begin to formulate any sort of plan, Thorin grabbed his shoulder and pulled him aside.
"Bilbo," he said hurriedly, "You're coming too. Prepare yourself... Put these on. It's the most we can manage."
Bilbo saw that Thorin held an armful of protective clothing- a breastplate, arm and leg guards made of leather, and Thorin's own helmet.
"We have little time, but I will help you dress if you wish."
Bilbo shook his head and declined Thorin's offer. He was too flustered for intimate moments with the Dwarf King, not when he was under such pressure.
Bilbo prepared quickly, and as soon as he was ready Thorin gave the call to move out, having worked out their route. His heart pounded. All his senses intensified- the wood was sharp with colour, he choked on the smell of the damp pine and the Dwarves seemed to make an almighty roar as they ran. As he struggled to keep up with their pace, Dori scooped him up onto his back, knowing he would fall behind otherwise.
"Sherlock." Bilbo gasped as he was jolted around on Dori's back, "...Sherlock."
The Company did not hear him, but the detective was all Bilbo's clouded mind could fix upon.
They were some twenty minutes running, like wolves on the scent of blood. They stumbled upon a clearing in the trees, where light fell through the darkness cast by the pines.
Thorin stepped forward, struggling to catch his breath.
"They should be here somewhere. They must be."
The Dwarves began to spread out, glancing around with great suspicion and wariness, their weapons readied.
The sound of a struggle reached their ears.
"Ngg-ngyeh!"
It echoed through the near pitch-blackness that surrounded the clearing. It had been like someone trying to break free of a covered mouth, with great difficulty.
"KÍLI!" roared Fíli, "KÍLI!"
He took off in a sprint, pursued by the rest of the Company. Thorin, who was now at the back, grabbed hold of the scruff of Bilbo's neck and pulled him off of Dori, who kept running. He took a firm grasp of the burglar, and kissed him hard on his soft lips, before grabbing his hand and running to catch up with the Dwarves.
It was very little time before they came across a gap in the trees, which formed something like a narrow corridor, just light enough for them to see, once they gathered, the tall dark figure of Kíli's captor stood in the shadows some sixty feet away, holding the dishevelled Dwarf Prince in a headlock, with a handgun pressed against his temple.