Chapter Text
Chapter 2
Without giving the murderer a moment to consider responding to my exclamation, I charge at him with a shriek. Like a deranged banshee, I put every ounce of my untrained physical energy into somehow clocking this guy upside his head. His eyes bulge in surprise but I barely notice as he drops his weapon in order to grab my flailing arms without slicing me in two. How nice. I'm STILL going to murder him.
Growling in frustration, I aim to use my legs to kick him wherever I can reach. Missing his goods but landing a solid blow on his knee, the slimy excuse of a competitor grunts in pain or annoyance, I'm not sure which, before shoving me away from him with ease. Stumbling back, I regain my balance but don't charge at him again. Instead, I use my words.
"You no-good, dirty rotten, puppy pounding murderer! You killed my dog!"
"Miss-"
"Oh don't you 'Miss' me, you butt licker! How often do you randomly go through the woods slaying people's pets? Huh? How often, Baldy!?"
"I was not aware that the mutt belon-"
"Mutt?! How dare you call him a mutt?" I can't believe it! This... this... this bedtime story gnome insulted my dog after he murdered him! Murdered! I'm at a loss of what to do with this cretin other than yell some more "You know what? Of all the forgettable, name-rhyming, jerk off dwarves, you were always one of my least favorite, Dwalin!"
Much like moments before, the dwarf's eyes widen but only for a moment before they become slits. If this wasn't a dream, I'd be worried. Being that it is, has to be, I ready every insult and swear that I know to fling at this awful dwarf. He killed my dog. Anyone who kills a dog is automatically the worst scum of the earth and by the time I'm through with him, this bucket of sludge in the shape of a dwarf will know it too.
"How came ye to know my name?"
"Oh, are we playing that game now?" I lift my head and laugh at the sky. Full on muahahaha moment "I know plenty about you Dwalin, son of Fundin. You and Balin and all your little dwarf buddies are going on a graaaaand adventure. The Quest for Erebor. There will be Hobbit burglars and Dragons marshmallowing. All that good stuff. Yada yada yada. We are not talking about that nonsense, we were talking about my dog! You-"
"Silence." Moving faster than I'd given him credit for, the dwarf scoops up his axe and a has it poised at my throat before I can even blink "Ye will say no more where ye might be freely heard, spy."
"Oh I won't, won't I?" Taking a deep breath, I begin screaming at the top of my lungs for no reason other than to do it "THORIN'S COMPANY IS GOING ON A TOP SECRET MISSION AND THEY ARE ABOUT TO MEET AT BILBO BAGGINS HOUSE IN- mmgghh!"
Covering my mouth roughly while cursing darkly, Dwalin looks around to see if anyone is within the area to hear my shrieks. I continue my rants behind his hand, resorting to wordless howls of displeasure as he tears a piece of cloth off his shirt. He shoves the foul-tasting strip into my mouth before quickly binding my hands behind my back with rope. It's cinches tightly around my wrists and I pause at the pain. Pain in a dream, how original... Just as the dwarf hefts me over his shoulder I begin to wonder if this really is a dream at all but think better of it. Out of the options of this being a nightmare or mistakenly being magically transported to the place I hate, I choose door A.
"Thorin will be wanting to deal with ye and he won't be happy about it." I snort in disgust as that name is brought up. Like hell that fluffy headed idiot will have anything to do with the dealing of moi "A woman spy, and not a very good one. What is Middle-earth coming to?"
I do not answer but give a hard upward jerk of my knee, sending it into his ribs for good measure. At this angle, it doesn't hurt him as much as I would have liked but he growls lowly at the dull ache I'm sure it causes. We walk only a few minutes to his camp before the dwarf drops me unceremoniously to the ground. With my hands tied behind my back, there is no way to break my fall and the earth is very unforgiving. Moaning softly, I watch through squinted eyes as Dwalin pulls a sack out of his bag before coming back over to me.
"Can't go walking into the Shire with a bound lass on my shoulder, now can I? Be a good little-"
With no intention of being a good little anything and allowing myself to be shoved into a bag like a bunch of potatoes, I bring my feet up to create a barrier between myself and the approaching dwarf. I use them to all but climb up his torso and do a rolling backflip in an effort to get away but he's having none of that. He grabs one ankle right off the bat and so begins the game of tug-of-war. He blocks all my efforts to kick him in the face with my free foot until with an exasperated bellow, he turns me onto my belly and slips me into the bag head first.
"Be still, will ye? Know when yer beat!" The command is met with even more hisses, jerks, and wiggles on my part. I'm not making this easy for him. The dwarf comes to the same conclusion easily enough as he sighs in frustration before settling his hand on the back of my neck "Pardon me but it'll only hurt for a moment."
Before I can register his words, pain blossoms from the back of my head and I'm out like a light
.
"He's here."
My head pounds like a drum as the horribly familiar words float by my ears. I know those words. The useless twig of a wizard, Harry Dumbledalf, utters them when
he
arrives. Considering that the last thing I remember is getting pummeled after my dog was murdered, I assume I've been out for a while. This is supported by the ache in my joints from being forced into a tiny space for so long. Searching for an opening in the bag as the voice of the wannabe King insults the wannabe burglar, I try to free myself before I become any more part of this madness.
The string drawn entrance gives slightly around my left foot and I shove the other out after it but have no way of getting the bag any further up than mid calf. Taking what I can get, I begin the act of rocking to my feet. The process takes forever and a day and it's painful but somehow I get up... And just stand there.
Although I know Bilbo's house like it was my own, I do not know which room I'm in to make it to the front door. Even once I get there, I've no hands free to open it. Still... staying here isn't an option so choosing the direction with the least amount of noise, I begin my wonderfully thought out escape. I only manage a few steps before I find out just where I am.
"Nope."
The thudding of the hobbit being brained by his own hardwood floor right behind me, lets me know that I'm not far enough to be unnoticed by the other occupants of the home but a girl can hope. Standing stark still as silence echoes through the house I hope blindly that I'm behind a wall or something because otherwise, I'm screwed. When the silence becomes too much to bare though, I just make a break for it.
"Oi! Is that someone's bag sproutin' legs and runnin' all loosed? I've seen everythin' now, lads!"
My quick baby steps are not fast enough to help me avoid capture and within 2.6 seconds exactly, I'm caught. Low mumbles and curious whispers surround me as I'm easily dragged into the center of the group. Cursing and growling beneath my gag, I do my best to have at least that wimp Ori cower in fear at imagining what's hidden beneath this sack. Dori will back out of the quest for his sake and Nori will probably follow. That'll be 3 less pains I have to worry about when I ruin Dwalin's life for his transgression. He really should not have killed my dog.
"Dwalin... What is this? "
"A spy." The sound of gasps of outrage and surprise fill my ears as Dwalin continues to speak "I figured ye'd want to deal with the problem. Tis a bit complicated though."
"Well let's see if we can't uncomplicated the lad." I can't really tell who is speaking. Maybe one of those useless space heaters, Gloin or Oin or one of the others. I don't care. It's hard to tell with the bag over my face anyway "Give me but a minute with him and he'll be simpler than a simpleton."
"That'd be a mite difficult considering..." the ties at my ankles loosen and the bag is yanked over my head, bringing the loosened gag with it. As if I was some sort of trinket on display, Dwalin gestures at me vaguely "She ain't a lad."
I meet each character's eyes with venom while silently begging to wake up. These short annoyances that I have hated since the thrice damned trilogy came out now look at me like
I'M
the inconvenience. I know where this is going. I know and I want nothing to do with it because DragonLand is not as nice of a place as they make it out to be on PBS. Between who I refuse to acknowledge as Dori and Bofur, I spy homeowner Baggins lying on the ground where he fainted. They seriously left him there. Jerks.
Wow. I didn't expect such a warm response. That really makes me happy!