Chapter Text
He was not supposed to be the only one on watch. Bombur was supposed to be there with him but the dwarf had drifted off and Bilbo himself was yawning. Despite the recent events Gandalf had been pushing them hard to get somewhere (or rather, to somebody) and the entire company was exhausted, especially as nearly all of their supplies had been lost somewhere between the mountains, the goblins and the wargs so they were marching on little food.
Bilbo stood at the edge of the camp, looking outwards. The light of the little low fire that was still burning cast shadows and he had one hand on his sword hilt. His other hand was turning the ring over and over and running a thumb over its smooth contours. He hadn't had time to really look at it since he'd had the luck to pick it up. Now at least he stood a chance if he should be asked to burgle something, an invisible thief would be impossible to spot if he was as quiet as a hobbit.
-
Thorin could not sleep. He hadn't said anything of it but the pain from being thrown around by Azog's warg was considerable - even to a dwarf. The pace Gandalf insisted on was not helping. It made it impossible to get comfortable on the ground and, since he was awake, the snores of his companions and the hobbit's constant yawning were irritating. Giving up entirely on sleep he got to his feet as quietly as possible, intending on relieving their hobbit of his watch - somebody should benefit from his sleeplessness.
To his surprise the hobbit didn't turn around as he approached, too busy staring down at something in his hands. He coughed as he got closer and the hobbit jumped a foot in the air and disappeared from sight. Thorin stared.
"Oh," came a voice from nowhere, "it's only you." And a second later Bilbo reappeared.
"What was that?" Thorin asked.
"I...erm...you see," Bilbo stuttered, wishing he could just put the ring on again and disappear. Thorin simply continued looking at him. And the whole story of his adventure in the caves came tumbling out. Finding the ring, Gollum, the riddle game (which caused Thorin to raise his eyebrows), finding out what the ring did, catching up to them, the whole thing.
"Well that certainly explains how you managed to escape the goblins," Thorin said, once he was finished. "May I have a look at the ring."
With a strange reluctance Bilbo handed the ring over, it looked delicate and small in Thorin's larger hands. Momentarily the thought of how the ring had managed to fit on Gollum’s spidery fingers when it was clearly made for a hobbit hand crossed his mind, but then Thorin began speaking.
"This was forged long ago," Thorin said, "but it is not of dwarf make. Still, many rings of some little power were made in that time, this seems to be no more than one of them if it does only what you say. Keep it, and may it get you out of more trouble." He handed the ring back to Bilbo. "It may be wise to speak of it to the wizard, if he does not already know of it."
"I'll do that," a ring of invisibility was all well and good but he hadn't considered that it might be anything more. Magic was magic, wasn't it?
"Go and get some sleep," Thorin said, "I'll take your watch." Bilbo was not going to argue with that and darted over to his makeshift bedroll and was asleep within minutes.
As the night moved on Thorin considered the hobbit and his ring of invisibility. He’d heard of the great rings, the seven rings given to the dwarves – like the ring Thror had worn which had thereafter passed to Thrain but had been lost with his father - but never had he heard that they conferred invisibility upon the bearer.
-
Bilbo meant to speak to Gandalf about the ring early the next day but the wizard had gone ahead before he woke up. There had been instructions left with Thorin as to which direction to continue in and that the wizard would return before sundown.
The dwarves took a somewhat more leisurely pace without Gandalf there, conscious that they were all tired and hungry and, in some cases, injured. There had been neither sight nor sound of Azog’s orcs and the eagles had taken them at least a day’s journey ahead, but they still had to keep up the pace since the orcs could travel quickly by night even if they had to hide during the day. Still, the walking made Bilbo worry less. He hoped he could speak to Gandalf privately about the ring, he’d wanted to keep it from the rest of the company – it would be nice to be thought of as a competent burglar, even if it was only because of the ring. It was comforting...if that was the right word, to have Thorin approve of him...of his use of the ring. After the various comments about his competency as a burglar he wasn’t sure if the dwarves would see the ring as cheating.
Gandalf, as it turned out, returned before sunset with news both good and ill
“I have found you lodgings for tonight at least and maybe a little longer,” Gandalf said, “you can rest in safety and resupply before you reach Mirkwood.”
“Surely you mean ‘we’, Mr. Gandalf,” Dori said.
“No, I do not,” Gandalf said, “I meant to get you over the mountains and that I have done, in a fashion. I am much further east than I ever meant to come with you, for I have some other pressing business to attend to. I may look in on you before this adventure is over, but this was never my adventure to have. I will go with you a little further, to the lodgings I mentioned, but then I must leave.”
Bilbo wasn’t the only one who protested at that, but the hobbit was the most vocal. After all, he was the one who seemed to get into the most trouble when Gandalf wasn’t around. The trolls, the stone giants, the goblins and Gollum had all happened when Gandalf wasn’t there. The only one who was silent was Thorin, and Bilbo looked at him curiously while the other dwarves tried to promise Gandalf a share in the gold when they reclaimed it. Surely Thorin would know best of all of them that there was no way they could defeat a dragon without a wizard. Instead Thorin simply looked more solemn and held up a hand for silence, grumbling the dwarves stopped their protestations.
“Thank you Thorin,” Gandalf said. “Now, we must head onwards to reach the lodgings before sundown.”
They had to ford a river, which was fine for Gandalf and all well and good for the dwarves – since the shallower ford only came up to the chests of the dwarves, maybe a little higher at some of the lower points – but Bilbo was neck deep in the water for the most part and had to keep one hand in his pocket at all times for fear of losing the ring. Fili and Kili had all but plunged into the water, prompting some muttering from the older dwarves who seemed as reluctant as Bilbo to go into the water. Gandalf had proceeded next, since the water came to his waist and did not seem to bother him. Slowly the dwarves had shuffled their way across the water and Bilbo, who (despite an adventurous childhood) could not swim, had to follow. Fortunately Bofur, who was in front of Bilbo, did not mind the hobbit clinging on to the back of his coat and Thorin, who Bilbo found out was behind him, caught him when he slipped and half drowned himself and shoved him back upright. Bilbo was half expecting a comment about that but by the time everybody was safely across, they had all quite forgotten about the incident.
Although all anybody wanted to do was lay down and dry off, Gandalf insisted that they keep going. There, at least, Bilbo had some advantage since he was not wearing boots and his feet dried much quicker than the dwarves boots so he did not have to squelch the whole way until Gandalf held up a hand and they stopped. They’d begun passing huge patches of flowers earlier in the day, patches which reminded Bilbo of his own little garden – although on a much grander scale, since the different types of clovers all looked like they had been planted. Bees buzzed through the air, bees bigger than hornets. It was only when they’d come to an nigh-impenetrable belt of oak trees and a high thorny hedge beyond them that Gandalf had stopped them.
“Now I shall introduce you to your host, but since there are so many of you and he is unaccustomed to guests you had better come two at a time at five minute intervals,” said Gandalf, then he turned to Bilbo. “Come along Bilbo, there’s a gate around here somewhere.”
There was a gate, a huge wooden affair, but beyond that Bilbo almost thought he was back in the Shire’s farmlands. He had to trot to keep up with Gandalf as they approached a huge wooden house. Outside it a man was standing, he looked to be about the normal height for Big People until they got closer and Bilbo discovered that he was much bigger. He towered above Gandalf and Bilbo only came up to his knees.
“Who are you,” demanded the man, “and what do you want.”
“I am Gandalf,” said the wizard.
“And who’s this,” the man said, bending down to peer at Bilbo.
“This is Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit of the Shire.” The man seemed to mull that over and Gandalf continued, “and I am a wizard. You know my cousin Radagast, who lives in Mirkwood, it was he who told me of you, Beorn.”
“Radagast you say,” Beorn said, “not a bad fellow, as wizards go, passed by here a few days ago.”
“Indeed,” said Gandalf.
“What is it you want?” said Beorn, gruffly.
“Your aid, and some shelter. We, that is to say the company I am travelling with, lost our ponies and nearly lost our lives after a rather bad time with goblins and orcs in the mountains.”
“Goblins and orcs?” Beorn said, in the least threatening tone he had used, “what ever were you doing near them?”
“For the goblins, we did not mean to cross their path, but for the orcs – well that’s a longer tale.” Gandalf said.
“Then by all means, come inside and tell it,” Beorn said.
Eventually Gandalf had told the whole tale, though much of the early part of it was punctuated by the comings of the dwarves (and for some parts thereafter, especially those for which Gandalf had not been present, there were some interjections by the dwarves) until all fifteen members of the company and Beorn were sitting around the table while Gandalf finished the tale with their fortunately timed rescue by the eagles. The sun was dimming and shadows were falling.
“Well that was a fine tale,” Beorn said, “the finest I’ve heard in a long while. You may be making all of it up, but it certainly deserves supper.”
He stood up from the table and clapped his hands, Bilbo was not the only one to goggle openly as Beorn’s ponies and dogs and sheep made quick work of setting out torches and bringing plates and cutlery to the table. Though the meal contained no meat the dwarves and hobbit fell on it with great gusto. It was Beorn’s turn to tell them tales of the forest which barred their way east – Mirkwood that had once been Greenwood the great.
By the time their meal was finished true night had fallen and the animals, at Beorn’s call, came in to remove the plates and light the fire pit that was in the centre of the house – which was much bigger than it had first appeared. Beorn excused himself outside and the company found that beds had been laid out for them, only straw mattresses and blankets but better than the hard ground with only their clothes to keep them warm. Though they all were replete and somewhat dozy from the meal, they sat around the fire and Balin told some of the dwarvish legends.
Bilbo had contrived to sit next to Gandalf, hoping to strike up a conversation and mention the ring (especially now he knew that Gandalf would be leaving them) but with Balin’s storytelling, he could not. It was not until the story was over and the dwarves began talking amongst themselves or heading off to bed that Bilbo managed it.
“Gandalf,” he said.
“Yes Bilbo,” the wizard said.
“I wanted to talk to you about...well about how I escaped from the goblin cave,” Bilbo said, once again removing the ring from his pocket and turning it over and over between his fingers.
“Indeed,” said Gandalf.
Once again Bilbo told the tale of how he’d fallen and found a ring and then subsequently found out what it could do and escaped.
“I mean, Thorin said it probably wasn’t much, but I thought I ought to check.” Bilbo finished.
“Well that’s quite an adventure,” said Gandalf, “will you show me the ring you spoke of.”
Bilbo attempted to flip the ring into the air and catch it to show Gandalf, in his mind it looked rather impressive, except that he fumbled the catch and the ring went into the fire.
“Bother.” Bilbo said vehemently, looking around for a poker or tongs to get at it.
Thorin, who had been sitting close enough to hear the tale over again, appeared at Bilbo’s shoulder and quickly reached into the fire to pick it out. Bilbo gasped but Thorin’s hand was unburnt as he dropped the ring onto the flat top of his other gauntlet to let it cool.
Dwarf, hobbit and wizard watched as, slowly, a fiery script began to make itself known around the band of the ring.
“That is not any language I know,” Thorin said.
“Nor is it one you should,” Gandalf said, looking grim, “though the letters are Elvish the language is that of Mordor. I will not utter it’s true form here but in the Common Tongue it says ‘One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them’, two lines of a verse of Elven-lore.
Three Rings for Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
This is the One Ring that was thought lost.”
Bilbo noticed that the dwarves who had gone to bed had all been roused and the whole company sat around the fire, staring at the ring which lay – quite harmless – on Thorin’s arm guard. Thorin sat down, but allowed the ring to remain sitting on his arm guard since neither Bilbo nor Gandalf made a move to take it.
“What’s that mean?” Ori asked.
“Long before Erebor was founded, when Durin’s folk lived peacefully in Moria, the Elvish settlement of Eregion was right outside the walls of Moria. Elves and Dwarves traded peacefully,” there was much scoffing at that, but Gandalf simply spoke over it, “and the Elvish smiths there were famed. It was then that Sauron the deceiver, disguised in a fair form and calling himself Annatar, the Lord of Gifts, came to Eregion. There he laboured with Celebrimbor, the grandson of Fëanor and the other craftsmen of Eregion, who began to create Rings of Power. Sixteen of these unknowingly had Sauron’s influence. Nine of these rings were given to great mortal kings and seven to worthy dwarf lords. Sauron’s purpose in doing so was to control these ring bearers. Swiftly the nine kings of men fell under Sauron’s power but the dwarf lords endured and would not fall,” that prompted cheering, which only quieted under the combined glares of Thorin and Gandalf, “but unknown to Sauron, Celebrimbor forged three rings that were hidden from his influence. These were given to the elves. Sauron did not give up and instead he forged one ring to rule all the others, a ring into which he poured much of his own spirit. Enough that, even when he was slain by Isildur, he lived on because Isildur took the ring. Long has it passed out of sight and many thought it lost and Sauron truly dead.”
“And then our hobbit finds it on the floor of a goblin cave,” Thorin finished.
“It would appear so. This ring has much greater power than simple invisibility. My dear Bilbo, your fumble may yet save thousands of lives.”
“How do you mean?” Bilbo said.
“I may have been able to read the words on the ring once they were visible, but I would not have known how to make them so – nor, I think, would any other of the wizards or the elf lords who walk this earth today. If you had not slipped and the ring had not fallen into the fire I would have supposed the same as Thorin and Sauron’s power would have been allowed to grow. This is the final piece. The blade that Radagast brought from Dol Guldur was not of this world, Dol Guldur has long been a fortress of Sauron though it is but a ruin now. If Sauron is still alive then his servants, the Ringwraiths – the spirits of the nine kings of men enslaved to Sauron – are not destroyed, as was thought, but simply in hiding with their master. The unusual activity of trolls, orcs and wargs crossing the Bruinen is testament to Sauron’s growing power and something must be done about it. There is a difficult choice for this company. To continue onwards to Erebor and Smaug or to abandon that quest in favour of another. To take this ring to the only place in Middle Earth where it may be destroyed.”
“And where is that?” Thorin asked.
“Mount Doom in Mordor,” said Gandalf. He looked around at the dwarves, who were all in various states of shock, and at Bilbo who was just about clinging to consciousness. “But it is late, or else early, and this is not a decision to be made lightly. Go to bed. Bilbo, take the ring back from Thorin.”
“But why can’t you take it?” Bilbo said.
“I already bear one ring. Bearing two is not permitted and I fear that if I should take the ring then it might wake. In Gollum’s company and in yours it is asleep, so long as it remains that way you may touch it with ease – though I would not have you use it save in the last depths of despair. Even Thorin taking it is a risk, for his father and grandfather both bore one of the seven.”
Bilbo flexed his fingers and quickly snatched up the ring from where it lay on Thorin’s arm, dropping it in his pocket as quickly as possible. It didn’t seem any different than it had before he knew what it was, it was no heavier, but it felt different somehow. He wasn’t sure if it was because he knew now that it was evil rather than just a useful tool or if it had woken up.
The three of them proceeded to bed. Beorn’s animals had managed to lay out a mattress that was indisputably for Gandalf close to the fire, indisputable because it was nearly twice the size of the other pallets, but the other dwarves had graciously left the two normal mattresses closest to the fire open for Thorin and Bilbo.
Despite the exertions of the day and the terror and excitement of the night Bilbo was having trouble getting to sleep, knowing that he had an evil dark lord’s soul in his pocket.
Eventually Bilbo fell into an uneasy and not at all restful sleep, only to be awoken by Beorn coming in. Feeling not at all himself, and wishing he could leave the ring under his mattress or else in some other place so he didn’t have to carry it, Bilbo got up – maybe some breakfast would make him feel a little better.
Gandalf was already awake and sitting at the table. Bilbo hopped, for it was a goodly hop to get on the bench and his feet dangled awkwardly, on to the bench next to the wizard. He thought about asking if this was real, if it wasn’t just some horrible dream he’d had because he’d drowned or something, the ring he’d picked up on a whim couldn’t be one forged by some evil so great and so dark he couldn’t really comprehend it. That Gandalf wasn’t about to ask, or strongly suggest, that Thorin and the company abandon trying get their home back because of something he’d done. They’d barely accepted him as it was, they’d hate him if his finding this ring meant they lost their home. He should have just left the damned thing lying on the ground in that cave.
Beorn seemed in a good mood, his animals at his heels bringing breakfast as the dwarves - one by one - came to the breakfast table. Their expressions were all grim, and Bilbo couldn’t meet their eyes.
“That story you told, Gandalf,” Beorn said, “I liked it much last night but I like it still better this morning, for now I know it to be true.”
It transpired, and Bilbo became very glad of Beorn’s good humour for the large man spoke at length, that Beorn had changed shape into a bear (which Gandalf assured the dwarves he had mentioned to them but they all swore he had not) and headed back across the river and up towards the mountain when he had run straight into Azog and the rest of his orc pack. He had not managed to capture nor kill Azog but as a great, tireless bear, he had chased down one warg rider to question and run the others off. That rider had confirmed much of the story but Beorn had had to grab a goblin sentry to confirm the rest of it. He was mightily proud of the orc and goblin heads which now adorned his gate and the warg skin nailed to a tree. It was only after he had finished telling the tale that he seemed to notice the solemn mood which hung over the rest of the company.
“I thought this news would be greeted with celebration. Your enemy is driven far behind you, though wargs move swifter than ponies, I am resolved to give you food and mounts for your quest onwards and hereafter I shall think better of any dwarf I see knowing what you have done,” Beorn said, looking around at all of them. “What is it that so troubles you all?”
There were some shared glances between the dwarves but then Gandalf spoke, outlining quite generally what it was that Bilbo had found and what it meant. Beorn’s expression likewise turned grim.
“And what do you propose to do about this?” Beorn said.
“That we have not decided,” Thorin said.
“You must do so forthwith,” said Beorn, “for I do not want that thing within my lands any longer than it has to be.” With that, he left the hall.
“Now it comes to it,” Gandalf said, “we must decide what to do.”
“We, Gandalf?” Dwalin said, “I thought you were leaving us.”
“And indeed I was, but with this…new development, no matter what course you decide I shall go with the ring at least until we have passed through Mirkwood. For if it is truly Sauron within the fortress at Dol Guldur, I do not know how far his reach has spread and if his mind would seek it out.” Gandalf said.
“Very well,” said Thorin, “we know what you would council us, wizard. To delay our return to Erebor and go instead to Mordor to destroy this ring. What do the rest of the company say?”
“Could we not go first to Erebor and, once that is reclaimed, go forth from there to Mordor with a greater strength?” Balin suggested.
“Erebor has been inhabited by a dragon for one hundred and seventy one years,” Gandalf said, “returning it to rights and building it back to its former glory will not be a swift undertaking. One that is perhaps better suited to times of peace.”
“If Sauron is growing as powerful as you say,” Dori said, “what is to stop him from using Smaug?”
“That is precisely the reason I would have us set out now. Curtail Sauron’s power before he has the chance to do just that. The reappearance of the One Ring will convince those who had thought, or wished, Sauron destroyed that he not yet dead. I believe they can hold his power back until the Ring can be destroyed. Besides, Sauron would have to have much more power than he does now to convince a dragon to leave such a hoard.” That was not well received.
Bifur said something in Khuzdul which made the dwarves nod.
“Because if Sauron returns to his full power while you sit in your mountain, he will not leave you be.” Gandalf boomed. “He may attack the strongholds of Men and Elves first, but eventually his eye will turn to the Iron Hills, to Erebor and to the Blue Mountains as the last of the free folk. If you wait and Sauron is returned to his strength then Durin’s Bane will not be an idle legend.”
Bilbo was liking this less and less. He did not much like being in the middle of an argument, quite literally in this case, especially over something he had caused. He couldn’t even put on his ring and leave because it was evil. Instead he tried to make himself as small and unnoticeable as possible and hope everybody ignored him. Which they mostly seemed happy to do, as the discussion became louder. He didn’t even know what outcome he wanted it to be, unless somebody was going to offer to take the ring off of him before they journeyed to Mordor (wherever that was). Gandalf wouldn’t take it off him and none of the other dwarves seemed like they were about to offer to take the ring - then again, was it really their problem, he’d been the one to pick it up.
The argument continued long after breakfast was finished and cleaned away. He couldn’t blame them for not wanting to come, he didn’t particularly want to go. It was the right thing to do, destroy evil, but that didn’t mean he wanted to march into Mordor and drop the ring in Mount Doom. He noticed that it mostly seemed to be the older dwarves, the ones with more connections to Erebor, who were speaking - Fili and Kili in particular seemed to be keeping quiet. Gandalf did seem to be swaying some of them as the argument quieted but Thorin and Balin seemed to be standing firm that the quest to Erebor was paramount and they could always go to Mordor later.
“Then let the company vote on it.” Thorin said with an air of finality, looking around. Gandalf agreed that that was fair.
The votes were cast and Bilbo was a little surprised when he was included. He had to remind himself more than once that destroying the ring was the right thing to do, bigger evil and all that, and how strange had his life become when going to fight a dragon became the easy choice. Maybe he regretted his decision a little more when they reached the seventh vote for going to Mordor because Bilbo got a good look at Thorin’s face and how it crumpled just a little bit before the dwarf king could control it. Thorin had been waiting a hundred and something years to get his home back and he, Bilbo, had accidentally broken that dream. In the end, despite the loyalty they owed to Thorin, there were only three hold-outs and nine were in favour of going.
“That is settled then,” Thorin said, voice not shaking an iota, “we go to Mordor.”
Bilbo was glad it was over, if only because it meant he could finally get down from the table, except Gandalf stopped him.
“If you’re to take the ring safely to Mordor, it ought to be somewhere more secure than your pocket,” the wizard said, Bilbo winced a little - he didn’t want to anchor this thing to him any more permanently - but he accepted the finely made chain that Gandalf gave him. It was finer quality than anything he’d seen in the Shire so he guessed it was dwarven made. He wondered which of the company had given up one more thing to the quest. Resignedly he took the ring from his pocket to thread it through the chain, handling it as little as possible with only his fingertips, and closed the clasp of the chain around his neck. It felt more like the click of fetters closing around wrists than it ought and the ring was heavier than it had been in his pocket.
The entire party was very quiet and spread out within the hall. Thorin had gone somewhere by himself but even the rest of the dwarves were only sitting in small groups, at least until Beorn returned. The giant man spoke quietly to Gandalf alone, to Bilbo’s utter relief, and then left again. Lunch was an awkward affair, eaten where they were sitting and with very little of the relief or merriment that had been present at the previous meals.
With nothing else to do and not really daring to speak to the dwarves, Bilbo turned his attention to his mending. He didn’t have any buttons to fix his ruined waistcoat but all his clothing was in need of mending by this point and he spent a boring enough afternoon trying not to think about what was ahead and stabbing his fingers with the too-big needle and thread that one of Beorn’s dogs had brought him when he’d asked.
Supper was taken at the table so they all had to be sociable and sit at the table.
“Tomorrow you shall leave,” Beorn boomed, “with provisions enough to last you a good long while and ponies.”
There was a general thanking of Beorn, though it was rather lacklustre. Gandalf had not spoken of what road they were to be taking to Mordor and Bilbo wasn’t entirely sure where Mordor was, Thorin’s map had only shown the Lonely Mountain, nothing further south than that.
The next morning dawned early and bright. Beorn roused them as soon as he came into the house and as soon as they’d rubbed the sleep out of their eyes they could see fifteen packs sitting neatly in a row, thirteen of roughly equal size but one was smaller and another larger. They were allowed one final, quick, breakfast before Beorn led them outside where fourteen ponies and a horse stood waiting. They were sturdier than their previous ponies, and regarded them with eyes that were more intelligent as well. There was a general ruckus amongst most of the company, deciding who would get which pony after Thorin had chosen his and settling their packs on them.
“What about the orcs following us?” Bilbo asked Gandalf, quietly.
Beorn obviously heard what he said and, to Bilbo’s mortification, replied in his great, loud voice, “No orc would dare to cross the Great River for a hundred miles north of my house, nor come anywhere near it. Orcs are not overfond of water and there are few fords south of here until the woods of Lothlorien. The ponies will stay with you as long for as long as you can ride them but when you reach Lorien, you must allow them to leave.”
The company agreed and soon they were off. Heading southwards instead of towards Mirkwood, but the tree line was not so very far off. Occasionally Bilbo would catch Thorin looking wistfully westwards as the far-off shadow of the mountain passed out of sight.
As soon as they were a ways away from Beorn’s lands, Thorin turned to Gandalf.
“Lorien, Gandalf. More elves?”
“Yes, Lorien,” the wizard said, “Sauron needs to be found out and fought, but if I am to continue on the quest with you then others must do it. The Lady Galadriel can call a council where we can present the ring and make others aware of his presence. She can also provide the company with boats,” that caused some grumbling within the company and even Bilbo was nervous - he’d never been boating, “which will take us closer to our destination with greater speed.”
They kicked their ponies to go a little faster when far-off warg howls could be heard.
“How far’s Lorien?” Fili asked.
“From here, it is some 200 miles, but these are Beorn’s ponies. It should only take us a week or so to get there.”
“At least we’ve woods to take cover in, if needs be,” Gloin said.
Gandalf made a noise that could have been either approval or disapproval and kicked his horse towards the front of the string of ponies.
Despite having never ridden before going on this adventure Bilbo couldn’t help but be glad that they had ponies once again, even after the two days of rest at Beorn’s house he was still aching from his fall within the mountain and the battle shortly afterwards. This pony wasn’t quite Myrtle, but he..she…it didn’t seem to be trying to take advantage of its novice rider. He was fairly sure they were making good timing, although he couldn’t be certain and he wasn’t entirely sure what ‘making good time’ was when on a pony, but still. Hopefully this time they wouldn’t have to worry about the ponies being eaten by trolls or chased away by wargs while they slept. No, if they were going to be chased by wargs, Bilbo rather hoped that they were on the ponies when that happened. Azog was all the more worrying now, if they got captured and the ring was discovered how long would it take an orc to work out what the ring did or for Sauron to find it and the world to end (or whatever it was that was so bad that would happen if Sauron got power again), not that it would be of much consequence to him since he would likely be dead.
At least being on the road again had one positive effect. Even if they weren’t heading quite in the direction they had planned the company did have to start talking to one another again and the general mood raised a little, apart from Thorin. Bilbo had been trying to avoid contact with the company’s leader, no longer because he was afraid the dwarf leader would disapprove of him but because he wondered if Thorin didn’t blame him for taking them so far away from his home. Durin’s Day was drawing closer and once that passed they’d have to wait a whole year before there was a chance of getting into the mountain again. It was little comfort that he was mostly avoiding the rest of the company as much as he could as well.
“Don’t fret master hobbit,” Bofur said, drawing up next to Bilbo, “he’ll come around.”