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Chapter Text

Bilbo couldn't stop the small smile from quirking the corner of her lips as she looked up from her cup of tea to meet Gandalf's twinkling eyes.  She resisted the urge to roll her own. She wondered if Gandalf was actually expecting her to believe the nonsense he was spouting.

Knocked off the Goblin King's head indeed. They were tough little monsters. It would take two tries with any sword that would be found within the Shire...at the bare minimum. Well, an Elf blade might do the deed in one she supposed...those blades were wickedly keen after all.

It was safe to say that no one would be finding out as long as she was in charge.

"I think you made all of that up," she told the wizard sternly.

"Yes, well, all good tales deserve a little embellishing," he coughed.

A little?

She chuckled at this.

A Took had taken the head of the Goblin King - that was a fact - but she was certain it had not been as...clean as Gandalf was painting it.

She had signed the contract. Against her better judgement her signature now sat below that of Thorin and Balin on the elaborately worded legal document now sitting in the Royal Counsellor's pocket. They were heading to slay a dragon (if he still lived) and take back their home. Worthy goals...and she would help them win their home if she could but there were bigger things to worry about. Shadows were rising...a darkness was growing and talking of the dragon had brought it back to  her. She could no longer turn a blind eye to this.

A line would have to be drawn in the sand. 

They had just shoved her towards the trolls. How dare they! For all they knew she would be troll jelly in two seconds flat.

She stomped towards the three brothers, her anger bubbling within her. She had spent the past weeks travelling with a smelly group of men who had found great joy in making her the butt of a grand number of jokes as they tried to shock her into some sort of feminine reaction and now this.

Well, she would deal with these three and then she would let the company know that she was finished with their behaviour and if the two princes couldn’t be trusted to look after the ponies they shouldn’t be left alone.

She liked the company as a whole. Really she did. They were nice enough and just being themselves when they tried winding her up but it still made her angry and right now...this...this was the last straw.

"Hoot like a barn owl and a screech owl," she muttered to herself. How in the name of the Shire was she to know what they sounded like?

She drew neared to the trolls and cleared her throat so she would be heard over their arguing.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded.

She should have known that the ruined cottage had been given some help along the way. Why couldn't anyone ever do as they were told any more? She left clear instructions to be followed. Surely it wasn't that difficult. The treaties became void for those who passed the boundaries and these three might as well have been at Bag End for all the protection the treaties could give them now. 

The three trolls - young for their kind - stopped mid-argument and turned to face her, slack jawed and wide eyed.

She stopped her approach and tapped her bare foot on the leaf and twig covered ground, her arms folded across her chest. She wasn't as impressive as she could be but it would have to do for the time being. 

"Well?"

The trolls tripped over themselves as they abandoned the fire and stew pot - she hoped pony or sheep was the only meat bubbling in that pot - and stumbled towards her, each dropping to their knees before her and bowing their heads. 

"Mistress,"

"Well...you see...we...well…"

She cleared her throat again, silencing them immediately.

She wasn’t truly angry with them she had learned years ago that things were different for them. For all of them. Besides they were just boys really.

"Bert, explain please,"

The cook - the eldest of the three - raised his head and looked at her.

"Well, mistress, you was gone so long. We was bored. So we thought we'd come find you…"

He trailed off and she watched with no little amusement as they all three shifted, trying to hide the fire and the stolen ponies from her sight.

She shook her head but was unable to hide the small smile that came to her lips. They were like children caught slipping cookies from the jar before dinner. 

"And the ponies?" she raised an eyebrow. 

There was a moment or two of silence while Bert scratched his head as he struggled to organise his thoughts.

"Well we got a bit peckish, Mistress. We was gonna take some home with us, honest. And we tried to be good. We only had one leathery two legger for dinner the other night,"

"Yeah," piped up Tom, the youngest of the three eagerly, "Cos the other's was too quick,"

"Shut up, idiot," hissed William  - the roughest of the bunch - hitting his brother over he back of the head.

"Ouch," whined Tom in a high pitched squeal, rubbing at the abused spot at the back of his skull.

Bilbo pinched the top of her nose.  So they had been responsible for the farmer. She couldn't blame them. It was in their nature and they were right. She had been gone for some time. But to have eaten the farmer. That was going to take some explaining. At least the rest of his family seemed to have escaped from the hungry threesome. 

She sighed. Nothing was ever simple any more.

"Enough," she shouted before the scene could dissolve into a three way scuffle. She had no intention of being in the vicinity of the three brothers when they got into a fight. They had a tendency to stomp around a lot with little care of what was around them. And roll.  Bilbo was sturdy but she was not sturdy enough to survive being rolled over by  a nearly fully grown mountain troll.

"You will free the ponies and return to the mountain,"

The three stared at her in silence.

"Am I understood?" she prompted.

"Yes," they muttered one by one.

"Very well. There are some hours of darkness left, you will start your journey now,"

...To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Bilbo stared at the brothers her expression as stern as she could manage it. She had always had a soft spot for these three but she needed them back where they belonged as quickly as possible before there were any more peckish moments or they were discovered by some idiot who decided he wanted a story to tell about the slaying of three trolls.

All three of them stood carefully when Tom began to tug on the deer hide apron Bert wore with the insistent of a faunt in search of sweets.

"But Bert, we has a present remember. You promised," the younger whimpered, his voice thick with disappointment before he turned to face her, a beaming smile on his face, his eyes rolling in all directions in his excitement and his tongue peaking out of the corner of his grey-green mouth.

"We has a present for you, we's found it," he announced proudly, his chest puffed out with all the pompous appearance of a promenading peacock .

"I wanted to tell her," William shouted at his brother, heading towards him with an upraised hand, ready to plant another slap on Tom's skull.  

"Oy, enough o' that," growled Bert and she scuttled back as he grabbed each of them by the back of the head and slammed them together with enough force to rattle eyes in sockets.

Moans of pain filled the night as they grabbed at their heads.

"No way to go behaving in front of the Mistress," Bert told them, his head held high and his nose tipped up.

"Now, I'm going to fetch the present," Bert stamped off followed by his brothers who were shouting that it was their turn to give her a present.

Bilbo glanced around in a panic but there was no sight of the Dwarves rushing in with weapons drawn. Fili and Kili must have decided to not rush to their uncle for aid. That meant they were probably still huddled behind a bush somewhere.

A minute or so later the three brothers appeared again, shoving at each other and uprooting more than one young tree as they collided with the trunks.

It seemed that William was the one to win the scuffle by the time they reached her as he was the one bearing the long parcel wrapped in some faded material and covered in dry leaves and earth.

Avoiding looked at her and with the most bashful expression she had ever seen upon his face he crouched down and held out the present.

"We's found this for you," he mumbled.

She smiled and took the present.

They were all a walking contradiction. They went and ate some poor farmer one day but then they did something lovely like this now. What could she do with them?

Bilbo unwrapped the fabric - it must have been gorgeous in its days but countless years of being abused by the elements had faded the colour and thinned it until she could see though it in places - and she was rendered speechless by the sight of the Hobbit sized sword in her hands.

She dropped the fabric to the floor and drew the blade from it sheath. It was a gorgeous piece of craftsmanship. The metal shone bright and silver in the firelight, looking as though it had just come from the forge. She gave it an experimental wave.

Good balance.

Despite what Thorin and the company thought she did have enough knowledge of weapons to protect herself if the need arose. She just didn't like to flaunt the fact as it was hardly the sort of thing a Hobbit should be familiar with.

Her attention was drawn back to the three trolls in front of her as they began to shift nervously and Bert pushed forward and elbowed William out of the way.

"There's other shinies in the cave if you don’t like it," he told her quickly, taking her silence as a bad thing and wringing his hands in worry.

"It is a lovely present, Bert," she smiled, "William, Tom thank you,"

They all stood a little straighter at her thanks, their faces beaming with pride.

"Now, head off home. I will not be far behind you,"

They lumbered off into the darkness and she had made quick work attaching her present to her belt and freeing the ponies from the small pen they had been placed in.

Bilbo nearly jumped out of her skin when Fili and Kili broke through undergrowth behind her at a dead run with a battle cry on their lips and their weapons held high, the rest of the company close behind and following their example to the letter.

She was able to make out their shocked expressions in the flickering firelight as they gazed around expecting to see three trolls ripping her to shreds or something equally gruesome she had no doubt.

Bilbo stood in equal shock for a moment or so before mumbling something ridiculous about the trolls lacking discipline. She pushed past them in her rush to get back towards the camp, dragging the ponies by the reins behind her.

Upon reaching the camp - having deposited the ponies with the other animals - she went to the stew pot found a clean bowl and spoon and helped herself to what was left of the evening meal.

She chewed thoughtfully.

It was good stick-to-your-ribs-and-keep-you-full-till-morning stew. If you weren't a Hobbit that is. And she knew her stomach would be rumbling by sun-up at the latest. The cut in her daily food intake was proving to be harder to grow used too than she had anticipated.

The Dwarves drifted back to the camp and once all of them were back - the ponies had been left to their own devices for the time being it seemed - they began to question her on just how she had done it.

She took her time answering. Trying to think through her words so she wouldn't stumble over them as soon as she opened her mouth. 

"I told them to go home," she finally answered after another mouthful of stew - it really was very good.

The sound of several of the Dwarves choking on their pipe smoke erupted around her. 

"To 'go home'?" wheezed Dori. 

"Yes, I told them to get off home and they did," she told them truthfully, her face straight. 

If they didn't believe the truth it was hardly her fault. 

She finished up her supper while the Dwarves argued over her method of dealing with the trolls and then she began to chew on her lip nervously as she began to fret over the trolls and their return journey, staring into the dying fire.

They had made it all of this way without her knowledge and in one piece, just because she knew about it now it would not effect their return journey in anyway. So, she reasoned with herself, her worrying about it would make no difference. 

Bilbo didn't even know why she was trying not to worry. It wasn't working. 

Thankfully Bofur, happy cheerful Bofur who was always ready with some little comment of commendation to balance Thorin's constant criticisms was the one to drag her from her thoughts as he sat down on the log beside her, laughing so hard he nearly toppled backwards. 

"Bilbo Baggins," he crowed, "The Troll Tamer,"

She looked away from the fire and smiled at him, welcoming the distraction. 

She liked Bofur. 

***To Be Continued***

Chapter Text

She woke with the birds. And with the birds came a far calmer Gandalf than the one who had left the night before. 

Fili and Kili made quick work of informing him of just what he had missed and it was quickly decided that if there had been trolls in the area there must have been a cave.

Sound reasoning, Bilbo had thought as she made a point of ignoring the newly returned wizard, not appreciating his childish tantrum of the previous evening one little bit. Really, you talked about problems. You did not just go storming of in a rage in the middle of nowhere. It was maddening.

Bilbo remained at the camp to assist with tidying things away for the days journey while some of the others - who obviously had no idea just how pungent a troll cave became after a very short period of time if their keenness was  anything to judge by -  went in search of the 'hoard'. 

They returned shortly after they had left, and, to her surprise, not empty handed. Several of the company were counting coins into their leather purses while Thorin and Gandalf were both holding terribly long - taller than her - swords. No doubt the 'other shinies' Bert had talked about. She was grateful they had not offered her one of those ridiculously sized weapons as a gift. She doubted she could lift the empty sheath, never mind the whole thing. 

She wondered if the blades had been crafted by the same person once upon a time and she couldn't help throwing a glance at her own sword when it lay by her bedroll when she heard Gandalf say they were Elf blades. 

Were all of them Elfish work? Even hers?

Putting aside her annoyance in favour of satisfying her curiosity she quickly finished packing the dishes into the bag they belonged in and retrieved her own sword. 

"Gandalf, what about this one?" she asked as she drew near to the two men. 

He looked a little taken aback to see her holding a sword and it took him a moment to finally look away from the hand gripping the weapon by the sheath covered blade and or meet her gaze. 

"Now, Bilbo Baggins, where did you get that?" he asked her like she was some faunt. 

Bilbo bit back the sharp retort trembling on her tongue and simply informed him that she had found it by the troll's fire. 

She glared at him, daring him to say anything after his  desertion. 

He said nothing, only took the sword from her, pulled it from the sheath and turned it this way and that.

"This too is an Elven blade," he told her and she felt a thrill. 

A real Elven blade. 

"The metal will glow when Orcs or Goblins are nearby," he smiled, handing it back to her. 

She fought the desire to laugh until her sides hurt. 

How frightfully handy. 

Bilbo turned around in wonder, her heart finally calming after the mad dash across through the woods and then across the open. Here was safety, in this beautiful valley tucked away from evil. It did not matter how often she visited the hidden valley it never ceased to amaze her with its beauty.

The clatter of hooves on the bridge had her focusing her eyes on the ground and no longer on the splendour of the architecture and she watched the hunting party responsible for the  killing of the Orcs gallop across the bridge.

She squinted in an attempt to recognise any of them when to her surprise she was dragged backwards by the straps of her pack and into the circle of the company nearly tripping over her own heals.

"Well, really," she muttered in irritation as the company drew their weapons as the hunting party circled them.

Men and their inane displays of bravado.

The Dwarves only relaxed slightly when the leader of the party slid from his horse and spoke with Gandalf. It truly was amazing what the mention of food did. For no sooner had Gandalf made it clear to the Dwarves that Lord Elrond was not insulting their mothers by his speech - although Bilbo was certain he was trying to cause a problem by bursting into his native tongue the way he had done in front of the Dwarves - than all the Dwarves were willing to lower their weapons and accept the invitation of food and shelter. 

She smiled at the lord of Rivendell as two of the Dwarves stood aside, allowing her to see more clearly and to be seen.

Elrond's eyes widened and he shot a frown at the company - taking each of them in with his piercing eyes - before he strode forward and dropped to a knee in front of her.

She curtsied as best as she could in her father’s best trousers and smiled at their host.

"My lady, the halls of Rivendell are ever open to you," he told her softly, taking hold of her hand - covered in mud and the skin cracking from holding reins for days on end - and placing a kiss upon it.

"It is a pleasure to rest within you halls, Lord Elrond. The splendour of your house is as if this is my first visit. As always," she smiled knowing nothing pleased the kindly man before her more than having his home praised by visitors.

She glanced behind him and saw that the Dwarves had stopped in their quest to find food and were gathered in a group watching her interactions with their host.  Gandalf stood behind them, frowning and stopping in his conversation with Lindir.

"I am glad your hunt was successful my lord, none of you suffered from injuries I hope?" she asked, concentrating once more on the kneeling Elf. 

She had recognised the markings upon the dead Orc that had fallen down the hidden entrance after them. They knew what straying into Elven territory meant. The fools.

"No my lady. And the Orc packs know what they risk should they cross our borders,"

Why had they crossed the borders? Where they hunting? She knew they could get carried away a little sometimes when they were on the trail of something. But then Gandalf was under the impression that they were after Thorin. Hardly surprising. With his attitude he probably went around making enemies everywhere.

"Indeed," she agreed, "And speaking of borders, I hope there have been no troubles along the mountain paths during the season…" she trailed off. She had been gone for some months and the trolls could turn out to be the least of her problems.

"None my lady," Bilbo felt light with relief, "All has been quiet from the mountains,"

Thank goodness for that. Most of her subjects had the tendency to act like children without adult supervision if she was gone for too long.

"I am glad to hear it," she sighed in relief, "Although the mountain giants shall soon be courting, shall they not?" she couldn't stop the playful smile from coming to her lips. 

"Indeed they shall," he chuckled, eyes twinkling. 

With one final squeeze of her hand Elrond rose to his feet and led her towards the stairs. 

"Come my friends, and see how we treat guests in the Valley of Imladris,”

Chapter Text

Bilbo ran a finger along the flat of the shining blade laying across her lap, the dull brown of her traveling clothes making the metal shine all the brighter. She followed the twirling lines that ran from beneath the hilt and down the blade. She knew that he dinner table was hardly a place to be brandishing weapons (for all of her adventurous ways her mother would not approve) but Elrond had insisted on the Company being served immediately and so they had arrived at the dinner table as they had arrived at the gate. Covered in sweat, dirt and with their packs piled in a heap in a corner.

She had been offered an escort to a room to wash before eating but the Dwarves decided they were having none of it and had all but manhandled her along beside them. Honestly, they intended for her to face a dragon but they didn’t want to leave her in the company of a few Elves… They had a very odd sense of valour that was a certainty.

Bilbo at least had insisted on washing her hands while the Dwarves - apart from Oin - didn’t seem to care for the dirt and goodness knew what else embedded beneath their fingernail and dived straight into the meal provided for them. Until they realised there wasn’t a rasher of bacon or side of beef to be found on the table. Anywhere.  Then they froze and saw it as their solemn duty to find some meat hidden beneath or in the greenery.  From the mumbling and glares that they were throwing at any Elf who got within spitting distance it was clear that the Company thought the Elves were playing some kind of trick on them.

Bilbo had happily ignored the complaints issuing from the various member of the Company and munched on the vegetables on offer, smiling at Bifur some way down the table as he did the same. After seeing some of the things the injured Dwarf had eaten so far on their journey (and much to her surprise to no ill effect) she didn’t even bat an eyelid when the Dwarf had reached for some of the blooms sprouting from a vase in the middle of the table and began to nibble on the petals. She had simply shrugged at the self-satisfied smile on his face and turned her concentration back to her own plate.

She knew that the meat would be brought out once it was cooked and the greenery on offer was more to tide them over in the meantime than anything else. But as the Company obviously couldn’t muster the manners to be grateful for what they had been given she saw no reason why she should enlighten them.

Rude. That was what they were being. Plain rude and there was no need for it when they had been offered hospitality.

In there not so subtle way they had prodded for information on the ‘warm welcome’ she had received from Lord Elrond. Gloin had obviously been voted in as spokesman as the rest of the Company had dropped quiet while they waited for her answer.

She had answered with a simple “He knew my mother” which was true, it just was not technically the reason behind this particular greeting.  

Elrond had entered sometime after they had been settled. He had been followed by a stern looking Thorin, a pleased looking Gandalf - no doubt happy that he had gotten his own way despite Thorin's objections - and an uncomfortable Lindir. The poor man no doubt hated his calm life being interrupted in such a way and she sympathised with his plight. While her life could be described as anything but calm at times she did have a

Elrond sat at the high table with Gandalf and Thorin - she had refused the honour when Elrond had whispered in her ear that she was welcome at his right (as was her due) - and they were making no secret of their conversation so when they began to speak of the blades that had been found she couldn’t help but draw her present out of the scabbard.

Had this been a Goblin Cleaver too?

Bilbo shivered slightly as she imagined the cool metal stained with blood and glowing blue beneath the hot sticky liquid.

Maybe not she thought hopefully.

After all, for her size it was a small sword, but, for a Man or Elf it was more of a large dagger. Hardly much cleaving to be achieved with a dagger…she hoped.

"I wouldn’t bother lass?"

She looked up from the shining metal and saw Balin watching her.

She slipped it back into the scabbard and out of sight, finding that it didn’t hold the same beauty it had done before she had begun to over think things.

Horrible things really. Swords.

"You see, swords - well, most weapons of note really - are named for the great deeds they do in war," he explained to her, his eyes apologetic.

"Are you saying my sword hasn’t seen war, Mister Balin?" she asked, trying to hide her relief that there had been no cleaving of any description happening with the aid of her present.

"Well, I'm not even sure it is a sword," he cast a glance at the sheathed weapon still sitting across her lap, "It's more of a letter opener really,"

The old Dwarf looked at her sheepishly as though he expected her to be offended.  Maybe she should be, but she found that a letter opener suited her just fine. Better than any Goblin Cleaver would anyway.

"Mister Balin, that is the best thing you could have told me about this, I thank you," she smiled happily at him and slid the sword beneath her part of the bench. She went back to munching on her lettuce and carrots with a lighter heart.      

Bilbo admired the lovely room she had been given for the duration of the Company's stay in Rivendell. She had already sat on the bed and it felt the way she imagined curling up on a cloud would. Devine.

The Company had objected – of course they had – to her being separated from them in this 'den of Elves' but she had made it clear that she was not sleeping on a bed roll on the floor when a perfectly, wonderful comfortable bed was within reach. And if they did think that was what she would be doing they were all mad.

She felt the soft thud of her letter opener hitting against her leg as she had returned it to its place on her belt after dinner. She shook her head with a fond smile flickering across her lips. She wondered if it had been another troll's hoard at one time or another or if the boys had been picking up anything that caught their fancy as they had travelled.

Gandalf had been trying to catch her eye after the meal – the Dwarves had been more than satisfied when the meat had made an appearance but they still viewed the Elves with distrust – but she had pointedly ignored him. She knew he wanted to know her side of just what had happened while he had been off pouting. The thing was that she could tell him nothing different than what she had told the Company, which was the truth…as far as it went anyway.

Oh enough of this Bilbo!

Here she was under a roof for the first time in weeks, with access to copious amounts of hot water and soap and she had a soft bed and clean clothes to clamber into after and she was just standing around like a right little idiot.

She untied the sword from her belt and leaned it against the wall. Her eyes caught the last rays of sunshine straying through the high arched window and she walked over to it.

The window was as wide as she was tall and as high as her ceiling at Bag End and gave a wonderful view out towards the mountain path that hugged the side of the valley, leading towards the Wilds.

Towards the Misty Mountains.

Chapter Text

“The trading agreement still stand, Lord Elrond,” Bilbo told her host, sipping at a glass of wine and setting it back on the highly polished table to the side of her.

She settled deeper into the comfortable arm chair that was so much at odds with its austere surroundings.

Elrond sat in a chair opposite her, a matching table beside him and his own wine glass in his hand.

“You are content with the terms of the last agreement?”

She nodded her head, savouring the rich fruity flavour of the wine on her tongue before swallowing it down.

“I am. My people are benefiting and I hope yours are also,”

A slow nod of acceptance from Elrond was all the answer she needed.

Their trade agreement had been in place almost as long as the treaty she had put in place when she had stepped into the roll demanded of her. She was glad that so far it was working as it should. She knew where she stood on matters, as did the Elves of Rivendell and the other settlements that Elrond had played mediator on her behalf for.

A companionable silence fell between them and Bilbo closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh air blowing gently through the glassless window.

She had enjoyed a refreshing night’s sleep – sleeping in a bed for the first time in weeks would do that for a person – and had lingered under the soft, clean sheets longer than was strictly polite, before finally dragging herself from the heaven that was her bed and dressing in a clean shirt and trousers from her bag.

She had looked around to try and find her dirty clothing but it was gone and she assumed that someone had snuck into her room while she was sleeping and taken them to be laundered.

After a late breakfast – her meal schedule was all over the place thanks to the journey anyway – she had wondered through the gardens of Rivendell. It had been a lovely morning, warm but with a breeze just cool enough to make the heat pleasant. And then she had turned a corner.

Her face had flamed with embarrassment and she had squeaked at the sight in front of her.

All of the Company had been as naked as babes and using one of the fountains as a bath, in plain sight of everyone.

She had turned around, only to crash into Lord Elrond and Lindir who had just stumbled across the same sight as she had.

She hadn’t known what to say. Tripping over apologies on the Companies behalf and hoping they were not causing too much of a disturbance.

Elrond had gently led her away to his quarters and it was there that he had lunch brought and their conversation moved from general talk of the Shire and Rivendell to more important things like treaties and trading agreements.

Thinking again of the state she had found the Dwarves in almost had her ears catching fire.

“My Lady, I hope you do not think I am prying,”

This caught her of guard and she focused all of her attention on her host, surprised by the sudden break in the silence.

“But why are you accompanying the Dwarves on this journey?”

Bilbo was not entirely sure what to say to this question as she didn’t know just how much Elrond was aware of.

She knew they were waiting to read the map…that was why Gandalf wanted them to come here in the first place. Had this been done?

“I know that the Dwarves intend to take Erebor, my Lady, do not fret about giving away any secrets,”

That was a relief.

“So you succeeded in reading the map?” she asked him.

“Indeed, Gandalf was most perturbed to have missed the secret of it,” Elrond smiled and Bilbo giggled at the almost childish glint of pride in the ancient beings eyes.

The amusement fled quickly enough however and Bilbo took another sip of her wine as she thought through her reasons for joining what would seem like a foolish quest.

“There are rumblings of dark things,” Bilbo finally spoke, “Things beyond my realm of knowledge,”

There was always darkness ready to rise. It was the way of the world. But the whispers of such a power had been growing in volume for some time and for Gandalf to suddenly have taken an interest in a dragon….

“But not of the knowledge of some,” Elrond lifted a brow, a wealth of meaning in the simple movement.

“No,” she sighed, “And I will have words with him upon my return,” Bilbo could feel a headache coming on, the pressure growing in  her head and behind her eyes until she felt as though her skull would burst.

“Your alliance still stands?” he sounded surprised and she knew he had every reason to be.

She had attempted something that no one else had before and, so far, she was succeeding. She wouldn’t deny that there had been some problems – still were actually – but it was to be expected and she was stubborn enough to ride out the storms in hopes of finer weather.

“There are some factions who do not agree and they have made this known…” she trailed off trying to organise her thoughts.

“That is what worries me. The darkness is rising. It must be for Gandalf to have taken an interest in the Dragon after all of these years,”

She chuckled at the look of surprise now apparent on Elrond’s flawless face.

“Please, he is not as secretive as he thinks. A Dragon is a risk, no? Why not use the Dwarves need to reclaim their home to take care of the beast? But we are getting off the point,” she waved a hand to dismiss the Lonely Mountain and its resident dragon.

“The Clans are splitting. The Darkness draws them like flies to rotten meat…”

Flies to rotten meat? Really Bilbo, you have been too much in certain company for that to be the first word choice to come to mind.

“I shall inform the Council of this,” Elrond told her.

“Ah yes, your White Council,” she took another sip of wine, “You shall be convening sooner than any of you expected if I am not mistaken. Gandalf and his meddling will be the chief item being discussed if I am any judge,”

She couldn’t help but smile knowingly at Elrond and his eyes bore into her.

“I am beginning to think you have a hidden talent or two, My Lady,” he told her, no doubt thinking she had been listening at keyholes.

“No, I only spend my time governing a kingdom of children,” she muttered, raising her glass in a silent toast to that kingdom before gulping down the rest of her wine. It really was nice stuff.

Chapter Text

Bilbo enjoyed her time in Rivendell.

Her bed was comfortable, she had an endless supply of hot water, newly cleaned clothes and the food offered for every meal was marvellous.

What wasn’t there to enjoy?

Of course there was the constant grumbling of the Company and the glares of the even broodier Thorin to contend with. She had thought it was impossible for Thorin’s scowl to get any darker than she had seen it on the journey – she was wrong. The Company leader was dragging a black cloud behind him wherever he went – apparently trusting no one in ‘this den of Elves’. It was as though he expected an Orc to jump out at him at every turn and then, when an Elf appeared, it was his suspicion being proved correct.

The members of the Company who didn’t revert to their native tongue when it came to cursing had a whole variety of phrases used to the backs of the Elves of Elrond’s house. While the sheer scope of insults was impressive Bilbo had to stop herself from boxing more than a few ears at the lack of respect being displayed by the Dwarves. Although her mind told her that their actions had no bearing on her at all, she felt ashamed of them and flushed in embarrassment whenever she overheard their insults.

It took her a day or two before she could control her blushing whenever she was in their company after stumbling across them all as naked as the day they were born. How was she supposed to look any of them in the eye after seeing them in such a state? She had become almost immune to a great many things over the years but in some matters her Baggins’ manners and sensibilities were as strong as ever and this was one of them.

Their endless stream of insults and mortifying sights aside she found it was nice to get to know the Dwarves without the added stress of travel. They were a nice bunch really; even the sour faced Thorin had his good points.

The youngest members had jumped straight into her heart within the first few days of travelling. Where their elders had been cautious about approaching her, their open curiosity and endless stream of questions about Hobbits had been refreshing compared to the awkwardness of the others. But now, in the shelter of the valley, she found that the awkwardness the older Dwarves seemed to adopt whenever they talked to her was vanishing a bit at a time.

“So mistress,” Bofur spoke around his pipe and Bilbo looked across the fire at the cheerful Dwarf.

“Yes, Master Dwarf?” she prompted him with a smile.

“That was quite the warm welcome his lordship gave you when we arrived…” he trailed of suggestively and Bilbo sighed. She was surprised the question had been so long in coming. They had been in Elrond’s house for nearly a week now.

“Yes it was…” she smiled at him.

If he wanted to know something she wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

The silence that had accompanied Bofur’s comment told her that the rest of the Company were just as curious as the hatted Dwarf was.

“Almost like you know each other…” he said, taking the pipe from his mouth and blowing the smoke towards the flames.

She had decided to join them at their make-do camp for the evening meal and had enjoyed their boisterous company but now she was on her guard, ready to formulate a careful answer to any questions they might ask.

“My mother travelled from the Shire to Rivendell once or twice, you know?” she finally answered when it seemed like none of the Company were willing to let the question – that hadn’t even been asked – go without being answered.

“And I too have enjoyed Lord Elrond’s hospitality before now,”

This caught their attention.

“But we thought you hadn’t travelled out of the Shire,” Kili leaned forward as though he was expecting a good story.

“Didn’t Gandalf say you –“

She stopped Bofur mid-sentence.

“Yes, well, unfortunately Gandalf is not aware of everything,” she winked at the younger Dwarves, “Be sure not to tell him,” she whispered conspiratorially.

The camp erupted with chuckles and outright laughter.

They had been in Rivendell for almost a fortnight and Bilbo was happily snuggling into her bed when a loud knock at her door almost had her falling of it.

She padded across the room and opened the door a sliver to see Balin standing in the hall, fully dressed and with an apologetic look on his face.

“Forgive me for disturbing your rest, Miss Baggins, but Gandalf has told us we must leave tonight,”

She asked no questions, knowing that the Council would no doubt have arrived by now and that they were more than likely the cause of the sudden change in plans, and closed the door.

She cast a sad look towards the bed.

She would miss that mattress.

The journey out of Rivendell and then through the Wild Lands to the Misty Mountains was hard as Thorin pushed them till the very last rays of light faded from the sky each day. Bilbo was sure he thought that a party of Elves were hard on their tails but she knew that Gandalf was far too stubborn to allow the council to do such a thing. He would have convinced them to allow the quest to continue one way or another. Gandalf always got his way at the end of the day.

The days of ceaseless travel didn’t put a stop to the many stories the Dwarves had to tell around the camp fire and Bilbo was fascinated by their history. Of course it also meant that she had to sit quietly through a re-telling of the battle that took Thorin’s grandfather’s life when the younger members of the company begged for it to be told again. Their eyes bright with wonder at having a real hero in their midst.

Bilbo had to bite on her tongue to stop herself from making some sharp remark that would have her getting some very strange looks.

She knew of the history of Moria. Knew that since the Dwarves had mined too deep into the earth and woken a darkness they could not face it had lain abandoned for any to take. It just so happened that Orcs where the ones drawn to the empty halls. As long as Erebor stood strong the Dwarves, while not happy with the turn of events, seemed content enough to leave it be. And then a dragon took Erebor and what do the depleted Dwarven forces decide to do? They decide to attack an Orc stronghold.

Honestly what did the Dwarves expect to happen?

They had abandoned the mines for pities sake. Did they expect that just because they could no longer live there no one else would?

Did they expect the Orcs to just pack their bags, say thank you for the shelter, good bye?

Bilbo scoffed inwardly.

Unbelievable and so typical of the other races who were automatically in the right in such circumstances.

Bilbo remained quiet the rest of that evening and fell asleep without exchanging a word with any of the Company.

Tomorrow would see them on the mountain path. 

---To Be Continued---

Chapter Text

Nights fell quickly in the Misty Mountains, even quicker when the weather turned as it had done early in the afternoon, and as the sun began to sink Bilbo hoped that Thorin would have the sense to find a crag deep enough to shelter in and stop them for the night.

The thunder and pelting rain provided the perfect weather for the Stone Giants and their courting. Like rutting stags the males would fight for the favour of the females and she did not want to be in the way when they began.

Of course, Thorin didn’t have the sense of a rock, and continued the climb along the small path well past dark. The rain and darkness making what was already a dangerous endeavour all the more perilous.

And of course they had to get in the middle of what Balin had aptly named a Thunder Battle and rocks came crashing down about them all as the giants fell against the mountain face or scooped handfuls of rock out of the cliff to pelt at their opponents. 

Bilbo would live a happy life - and longer - if she never had to repeat that experience again. Hanging from the rock face by the tips of her fingers had to have been one of the most terrifying experiences of her life – and she had a fair number to choose from as her repertoire grew by the year.

Understandably it had made her a little emotional (near death experiences would do that), and when Thorin  had hoisted her back to the safety of the ledge and then spat his hurtful words about her not belonging, she thought that there was a certain attraction to the  way some of her acquaintances dealt with people they didn’t like. She wouldn’t have minded chopping off his stubborn Dwarven head at that moment as tears had stung at her eyes.

Well, she would show him. She didn’t know how but she would.

She joined the others in clambering into the cave Dwalin had deemed empty and settled down in a corner, content to ignore and be ignored.

She rested her head on her pack and tried not to sniff as ridiculous tears fell from her eyes without her permission. Sleepy from her silent crying, her fingers played with the grit strewn across the cave floor. Left, right and round in a circle her fingers went, until they fell into a dip in the floor. She traced the small crevice with a soft smile, small tears still rolling down her cheeks, and rolled over to avoid the draught.

She would wait until the others were asleep and then she would slip away…

The noises of the battling giants outside the cave had ceased – whether they had moved far enough away for the storm to eclipse any sound they made or had stopped entirely Bilbo didn’t know. All she knew was that she had never treasured silence as much as she did now.

Well, maybe not silence.

She could hear the heavy breathing of the Dwarves and the rhythmic snoring of more than one of the Company echoing about the chilly cave and she slowly began to move. She knew from their weeks on the road that some of them would need a rock dropped on their heads to wake up – and even then it might not work – but she wasn’t risking being stopped by the lighter sleepers around her. As quietly as she could she slipped her pack onto her back, fastened her letter opener about her waist and tiptoed carefully around the scattered bodies dotted about the cave floor.

“What are you doing?” Bofur’s voice had her freezing in place before she had even made it into the open air.

She had forgotten all about the night watch Thorin had set in place.

Why did it have to be Bofur who caught her?

“I’m leaving,” she whispered, still conscious of waking the rest of the party.

The Dwarf jumped up from his spot leaning against the wall and closed the small distance between them.

“No, you can’t. You are one of us…Part of the Company,”

Oh Bofur.

Why couldn’t Thorin have been the one on watch duty? He would have probably kicked her out of the cave, no questions asked, in his current mood.

But it wasn’t Thorin. It was Bofur. The one who had been the first to notice she had been missing out on the cliff, the one who had been the first to make her feel like she did belong.

But she didn’t. And sooner or later they would all learn just how much she didn’t.

“But I’m not, Bofur. Thorin was right. I don’t belong here,”

“You’re homesick,” the poor man was grasping at straws now, trying to get her to stay. He thought she missed the Shire. And she did. But the Shire had stopped being her home a long time ago, “I understand,”

“No Bofur, I’m not homesick,” she struggled to summon a smile for the usually so happy Dwarf who was frowning at her in concern.

“I just…I need to leave. I can’t stay here,”

She needed to go back to where she belonged and forget all about a Company of Dwarves and their quest to retake a kingdom. Besides, if she was right about those gaps she had felt in the floor she had to stop –

“What that?” Bofur was squinting at something.

She followed his gaze to her waist and then to her sword.

She  pulled it free from the sheath. Oh dear.

An eerie blue glow was coming from the blade, illuminating the darkness around them. Clinking and grinding noises came from beneath them and she watched as sand and grit fell away beneath her feet. Following straight lines one way and then suddenly changing direction.

Oh no.

“Wake up!” Thorin bellowed, but his order came too late as the ground fell away beneath them.

Bilbo leapt backward and scrambled on hands and knees so as not to join the rest of the Company in falling down into the mountain.

She struggled to her feet and winced. Her ribs would be making themselves known very loudly in the days to come.

She sighed and glanced around the now empty cave. Apart from a few bags that had been placed too close to the cave wall to fall with the others everything was gone.

“And this was what I had wanted to stop from happening,” she grumbled irritably as she dusted off her clothes.

She edged close to the gaping hole that now occupied where the once solid cave floor had been and looked down.

Goblins were swinging from the ropes that operated the gears that sprung the trap the Company had been napping on.

She hoped the landing hadn’t been too hard on them. Well, maybe she wouldn’t mind Thorin landing on his rock hard skull. She might let him keep his stupid head if he at least got a bruise out of it.

Bilbo sighed at her own thoughts.

She was more likely to slay Smaug than give the order for Thorin’s head to be removed.

The Goblins below her – their part of the plan obviously accomplished – were now swinging playfully from the ropes and chains, laughing and hooting at a job well done. Until one collided with another and then the whole thing dissolved into chaos as they swung and struggled to plant blows purposefully. Squeals and yells now drifted up to her.

Oh for the love of-

“Yoo hoo,” she shouted down into the chasm and the mostly naked bodies froze in their fighting to glance up at her, beady eyes staring widely at her from grey mottled faces.

Squeals of a different kind issued from them now and she stepped further back and closer to the mouth of the cave to make room as the Goblins scrambled up the ropes and chains and over the flaps of the cave floor to stand before her.

She waited patiently as they climbed over each other, stood on each other and soon enough began to hit and bite - all sense of order gone.

She sighed. She could feel a headache coming on.

It was good to be back.

Chapter Text

Bilbo stood near the edge of one of the high walkways, flanked by her Captain of the Guard and an assortment of his men behind him. She watched through narrowed eyes as the Company were lead through the passages and marched along the planks and walkways further into the mountain range. She tensed as a Dwarf elbow rammed into a Goblin head and hissed as the Goblin fell back from the crowd and shook his head to clear it.

That does it.

She had wanted to avoid this. She was going to sneak out of the cave, walk along the path a little further, make enough of a ruckus for the night watch to find her – there were secret passages galore along the mountain but she had no desire to try and find them in the dark - and tell them to let the Dwarves pass without molestation. Then she would have vanished from the Company for ever. No doubt with Thorin thinking she had made straight for Rivendell with her tail between her legs. 

Easy and simple.

That had changed of course as soon as the trap had fallen open.

And now, as she watched the Dwarves struggle and fight against the guards, planting blows where they could she felt less than charitable towards them.

Really. They had been on her land. In her domain – She winced as another Dwarven body part collided with Goblin bone.

It was true that they were tough little beasts but that was no excuse to go and abuse them so.

An ache from her knuckles had her loosening fists she hadn’t even realised she had made.

The tall figure of her Captain of the Guard stepped closer to her.

“What is your wish, majesty?” he grunted, his voice deep, but she knew he was more than capable of the high pitched squeals and wicked cackles all Goblins were able to make.

She glanced away from the sight of the Dwarves.

Her Captain stood taller than she did – most of the Goblins did despite their natural crouching posture – and his hand was resting on the hilt of a crude dagger tucked into the waistband of the tan cloth that was his only covering. They had leather thick skin and most Goblins didn’t worry about wearing many layers. Even against the sharp rocks of the mountains and the chilly weather they seemed impervious, while Bilbo had to continue to wear layers to ward of the natural coolness that was inescapable within the caverns of the Misty Mountains.

She glanced below her just in time to see the Company vanish around a corner.

Her eyes narrowed again.

No one abused her Goblins and got away with it too freely.

“Have some fun with them,” she couldn’t stop the sharp smile from forming on her lips.

It would be nice to watch the Company panic for a little while.

I’ll show him who doesn’t belong on a dangerous quest.

She may have been thinking of disappearing from the Company but that plan had changed and she was going to make the most of what had presented itself to her.

“But they are not to be harmed. Am I understood?” she may be angry with them all for not sticking up for her when Thorin snarled at her on the ledge, but that didn’t mean she wanted them hurt any more than they were after a doubtless rough landing.

Her Captain bowed low and growled instructions to one of his subordinates who went scuttling off into the darkness – she knew he would reach the centre of the range before the Company.

She plucked thoughtfully at her still damp travelling clothing. They had lasted well throughout the journey but now there was a rip the length of her arm in the jacket from her scrabbling in the cave and small holes from her struggle on the cliff edge.

She looked a disgrace. Her poor father would be turning in his grave at the state of what had once been a pair of his best trousers.

She was not going to show herself like this.

“I shall be along directly, once I am changed,”

She spun on her heals to face the Goblins at her back.

They were all stood proudly to attention, hands resting on the hilts of their weapons and eyes fixed straight ahead. They all looked very impressive compared to her initial welcoming party. One of them was holding her pack and sword that had been recovered from the cave floor where she had thrown it as she landed. It was still glowing blue from the scabbard, showing that Gandalf was right about its abilities.

“Captain,” the Goblin stood even straighter as she turned her gaze upon him, “Have the trolls returned?”

“They returned some days ago, majesty,” he nodded.

Oh, thank goodness.

Relief flooded her in a rush, making her feel almost dizzy with it. There was one less thing to worry about…Although the pang of guilt continued to bite into her whenever she thought of the poor farmer who had become their dinner. But unfortunately there was nothing she could do to fix that.

“Very good,” she smiled at her Captain, “Now, will you please escort me to my rooms and then I shall deal with our visitors,”

Unknown to anyone looking from the outside, the Misty Mountains were riddled with natural and goblin-made passages that joined the whole mountain range from the inside. They led to storage caves and huge caverns filled with whole settlements throughout her kingdom. With a guard in front and behind, each carrying a burning torch she found her way easily by the flickering light through the passages and turns that she needed to reach her destination. She would be at her rooms and make herself presentable in no time. Then she would head to where the company were being taken.

The smell of the burning torches filled her nose and she had to blink her eyes wildly to stop them from watering as the smoke made them sting.

The sound of drumming drifted through the passages and echoed about her as she journeys through the caverns that lead to her chambers. She began to hum cheerfully to herself, reaching out to stroke the damp rock that surrounded her and whispered words beneath her breath.

“Down in the deep of Goblin Town,”

---To Be Continued---

Chapter Text

Have fun with them they had been told. And that was what they would do.

The torches smoked and spat from where they stuck out at angles along the main walkway to the centre of the town and the sound of  a horn being blown and discs being smashed together sounded above the cheers and singing of the Goblins that filled the cavern. 

The citizens of Goblin Town were obviously enjoying themselves immensely as they watched the Night Guard tug and push at the fowl smelling, soaking wet Dwarves and led them nearer to the centre of the town – oh, the night shift workers in the depths of the mountain range would be furious that they had missed out on this. An audience had gathered along the higher walkways and cheered in glee as they watched the procession come to a stop in the middle of the town in front of the giant Goblin who had just finished his song and was clearing his throat.

“What do we have here?” he demanded, projecting his voice marvellously through the cavern so even those perched on the highest of the ledges could hear him.

“Spies?” a cheer went up from them.

“Thieves?” another cheer.

“Assassins?” they went wild as the giant Goblin stretched his arms out and turned in a circle acknowledging their presence.

One of the guards stepped forward nervously, shuffling his feet about anxiously as the crowd hushed, waiting to hear what this new figure had to add to the proceedings. It had been some time since such entertainment had been brought to them.

The guard edged forward, never taking his eyes from the giant Goblin.

“Dwarves you malevolence,” he announced and some hoots arose from the ledges in appreciation of this fancy word. Beautiful. It really was. What a word!

“We found them on the front porch,” the guard had gained a bit more confidence and his voice grew stronger with every word and every reaction of the crowd.

Gasps of horror and booing were aimed at the Dwarves after this announcement, while others smiled and elbowed each other knowing it was their trap door that had led to the Dwarves being caught.

“Dwarves!” the giant bellowed, still feeling less than charitable to the group after their reactions to his song.

Really ‘abomination’ was putting it a bit strong wasn’t it?

“Search them,” he ordered and the guards began to paw at the Dwarves.

A bag of silver fell clanging to the ground.

The nervous Goblin cleared his throat again and held out a shining candelabrum to be inspected, the brown sack grasped in his other hand hung open revealing a selection of other shiny knick-knacks. 

“It is my belief your great protuberance, that these Dwarves are in league with Elves,”

More gasps from the onlookers at this unexpected twist. Who would have thought it? Dwarves and Elves? What was the world coming to?

The Great Protuberance took the silver candlestick gently by the stem and turned it upside down.

He studied the markings on the base.

“Made in Rivendell, hmmm,” he glared at the Dwarves, “second age,”  he announced, “Couldn’t give it away,” he threw it into the crowd, sure that someone would catch it.

“Strip them of their weapons,” he growled and the guards went quickly to work, being sure to place all of the weapons in a pile to be gone through later, “We will show them how unexpected visitors are dealt with here,”

The Dwarves began to fight against their captors once again as their weapons were taken from them.

As the Dwarves were struggling so violently it took them some time before they realised that first, the Goblins weren’t actually doing any damage with their rough treatment and whips (in fact they were striking their clothing and not with enough force to even bruise through the material) and second, things had gone very quiet.

“Really now, must you all cause such a fuss wherever you go?” a stern, steady voice queried clearly and one by one they stopped their struggling and turned to find their burglar standing on the walkway behind them shadowed by a group of Goblins. Her arms were folded across her chest and she was frowning at them as though they were children who had done something to disappoint her.

“That’s more like it,” she nodded her head once all of them stood still.

“Bilbo what-“ began Kili only to receive a sharp prod in the side from a guard.

“Speak when spoken to,” the creature snarled at him as the Dwarves were forced apart to create a path and their burglar passed through them, her head held high and with an air as regal as any queen.

She came to a stop before the giant Goblin who had bowed before her and she turned to face them.

“Now then, if you can all be trusted to behave yourselves, you will be released,”

Obviously taking their shocked silence as acceptance she gestured for the guards to loosen their bonds and back away.

All of their thoughts were so scattered none of them even considered running for it when their hands were freed.

“Your majesty,” grovelled the large creature at Bilbo’s back, busying himself with lifting his ‘throne’ and handing it down to a group on the walkway directly below him, “May I be the first to welcome you back. The mountains once again shine brightly with your presence. my lady,”

“As eloquent as ever sir,” their burglar smiled at the grotesque creature.

The Dwarves stood in open mouthed astonishment as the Goblin stood to the side to reveal a small chair – a throne of sorts from the decorative carvings that adorned the arm rests – and their burglar sat in it.

She gestured for one of the Goblins who had taken up a post at the side of her chair, her eyes never leaving them. They were narrowed, dangerous.

“Captain, double the watch,” her voice was different, so sure and commanding as she spoke to the Goblin who had bent towards her.

The Goblin nodded his head but there was a slight tilt to it that showed he didn’t know why he was to so this thing.

Bilbo simply smiled and some of the company tensed, knowing her reason behind the order.

“We are expecting the company of a very meddling wizard,”

The Goblin snarled something and the next thing a horn sounded throughout the silent cavern.

The Company couldn’t believe that the creatures who had been hooting and hollering only seconds before were capable of such stillness.

For the first time they noticed her change in dress.

Gone was the travelling clothes, the red jacket, short trousers and waist coat. In there place was a grey gown that showed a figure none of them knew she had possessed beneath the large men’s clothing she had worn through their journey.

The gown hung from high on her neck to the floor, it had made her appear to float when she walked. Long sleeves hid her arms and gloves encased her hands – making them appear even smaller than they were.

What drew their attention though was the silver decoration that sat on her head. It was made of some of the finest silver any of them had seen. The delicate band encircled her head, some of it hidden by her hair that was no longer confined to a tight bun but had been loosely swept up, the curls hanging from where they had been pinned. Small chains of silver hung at the front from each side of her face, catching the torch light as she moved.

She sat back in the throne like chair and studied them, her eyes harder than any of them had ever seen them, even when they were emptying her pantry.

Finally she spoke, a sharp smile on her face and even sharper gleam in her eyes - or was it just the silver that made it seem so. 

“I welcome you to my realm, gentlemen,”

Chapter Text

Well…maybe she could have thought that out a little bit more.

Bilbo adjusted herself on the chair – the throne had to be one of the most uncomfortable pieces of furniture ever invented – and sighed, tapping on the arm rests with gloved hands to try and dispel some of her agitation.

Tap, tap, tap.

The Dwarves were staring at her. Their eyes wide with…something. Even Thorin was staring at her and not ranting or raving like she had expected him to be. Wonderful. She had broken them all.

She didn't really know how she had thought this would go. After all, she had hoped to avoid it entirely. Or break it to them a bit more gently than this. Maybe as a story over the fire one evening. Yes, because that would make it a lot easier for them to swallow. They would have either laughed at her – thinking it was all some grand joke – or worse, believed every word, not let her explain and abandoned her, or…well, she didn't want to think about the other option her mind had concocted but she knew that the Company were capable of making some very rash decisions…

The silence of the Dwarves and restless shifting of the audience was disrupted by the sound of struggling and trampling along the bridge.

What now!

She stood - the slight elevation of the step at the base of the throne giving her the added height to see over the crowd of Goblins and Dwarves before her.

"Release me-" she knew that voice.

A unit of her watchmen were crossing the ramp with a very disgruntled Gandalf. She scanned the wizard frantically. He wasn't injured, but then she knew Gandalf could probably survive a fall from the top of a mountain with nothing to show for it but a bruised ego. No, it wasn't injuries she was looking for.

The staff, the staff, the staff. Where is it?

Oh, thank heavens.

One of her Goblins bringing up the rear was carrying the staff, struggling with the item that was taller than he was.

The watchmen were paying Gandalf's struggles no heed as they all but wrestled him before her. The wizard had been so consumed by his efforts to get free that he seemed blind to the fact that he had just been led through the Company and now stood right in front of her.

"Attacking innocent travellers," he was grumbling to himself while still attempting to shrug himself free.

Bilbo rolled her eyes.

As if his grumbling would do him any good.

"Really now Gandalf, you are not and I doubt have ever been, an 'innocent traveller',"

Slowly he looked up from where he had been levelling a glare at a Goblin. She would have laughed at the stricken look on his face if she wasn't striving to be regal. Nothing ruined the appearance more than bursting into a mad giggle.

"Bilbo," his voice was hoarse, almost a whisper.

She smiled. She was enjoying Gandalf's surprise – obviously Elrond had kept her identity to himself.

"You did not know the end of your own story, Gandalf," she told him, relishing in his frozen expression, "Welcome to my kingdom,"

She waved a hand to encompass everything around her.

"If you don't mind," she sat down, her back straight and hands draped on the arm rest. This was her kingdom and they would know it in every small way she could think of, "your staff will be kept safe for the time being," she nodded to the bearer of the staff who immediately placed it with the rest of the weapons being guarded by watchful eyes.

Finally the wizard found his tongue and would have stepped closer to her had his keepers not put a rapid halt to his progress.

"Perhaps," he cleared his throat, "Perhaps you should finished the tale, my dear" he blinked owlishly at her and she leaned forward, bracing her hands on either side of her, ready to stand. She changed her mind however and settled back down.

"Very well,"

She cast a glance behind Gandalf and saw that more of the Company were finally drifting from their stupor.

She focused once again on Gandalf and smiled.

"To the victor go the spoils,"

He seemed confused – a state of mind he wasn't at all familiar with Bilbo thought with twisted glee.

"Bullroarer Took did take the head of the Goblin King – whether this was accomplished by one swipe of a club and whether it went down a rabbit hole is open to speculation," personally, Bilbo seriously doubted it, "It wasn't discovered until sometime later that Goblins have a legal system of sorts. Golfimbul showed himself lacking in leadership by being beaten in battle, who better to take his place than the one who had taken his head?"

Understanding dawned on Gandalf's face, which was a shame because she had really enjoyed knowing more than he did. It didn't matter though. There was plenty more to come that would send the wizard for a loop.

"Logical, don't you think?"

"Indeed," Gandalf muttered.

She could almost see the wheels turning inside his head and she very nearly laughed. If he thought he was going to use her in the same way he was using the Dwarves then he had another thing coming.

She had her own reasons and none of them were to become a piece on Gandalf's chess board. For all that he was doing what he was for the good and safety of all, she would do what she needed to keep her people safe. It just so happened that assisting in the quest was part of that.

"Rulership has been passed through the Took line ever since,"

Bilbo would be the first to admit that her predecessors had not been all that good at their jobs. She had a sneaking suspicion that the only reason the Goblin King's line had not done away with their Took leaders was because of bone idleness. Hobbits had grown soft in the Shire through the years of peace and they did not know the first thing about governing a nation of Goblins. Even the family known for its adventurous ways drew a line somewhere.

"But, surely there were members of your family in line before you?" Gandalf queried.

He was right. The only thing that had made her even a possibility was her mother's blood.

"Yes, well, I drew the short straw," a cheer rose from the watchers and she pinched her nose.

They really weren't the sharpest knives in the drawer.

That had been the case though. No one else would accept the roll and order needed to be upheld to some degree in the Misty Mountains.

Gandalf stared at her and she met his gaze full on. He didn't speak and neither did she – she had no reason to now that she had told him all he needed to know for the time being.

Fed up with the silence Bilbo stood and Gandalf was immediately dragged back from the throne to give her room to step down.

She walked around the edge of the platform, her Captain several paces behind her.

She had been so preoccupied by the Dwarves and then Gandalf she had not paid any attention to the state of things. She crinkled her nose in distaste at the sight of the skeletons secured to the polls on either side of the walkway and ran a finger along the skull of one of them before flicking it dismissively. She was glad it had been picked clean. The smell of rotten flash was not something she wanted wafting around the caverns.

The Dwarves - all of them free from their shock – were beginning to shift uncomfortably and she heard more than one grunt of revulsion.

She ignored them.

"I see you have been decorating in my absence," she spoke to her Captain but it was the Giant Goblin – named Golfimbul for his unlucky ancestor – who answered.

"Gifts, my queen," he told her from his spot beside her throne.

"Gifts?" Gandalf gasped, once again discovering his voice.

"Yes, gifts," she turned about to face the Dwarves and one wizard, all of them wearing mixed expressions of disbelief and disgust.

Some people got flowers as gifts, she got bodies. And she knew very well who they were from and that they had more than likely been branded traitors.

"Now then, you all no doubt have-" a horn blared through the cavern and a cheer rose up from her subjects who had yet to grow bored of the proceedings.

Just wonderful.

She cast a frantic eye about the platform.

No where to put them.

She settled for what she could.

"Put them behind me, now," she snarled.

"Majesty," her captain began.

"Do not argue," she told him firmly, receiving a low growl in return but he did as she asked.

"All of the prisoner behind her majesty," he growled at those lagging in carrying out her orders, and the stragglers were wrangled between her back and the throne, complaining loudly the whole while.

She turned on them.

"Silence!"

Her eyes went to the tall figure of Gandalf who towered over the Dwarves, he went to open his mouth but she shot a frown at him and his mouth closed again.

There was no avoiding Gandalf being seen but the Dwarves had a chance of blending in with their captors if they remained quiet.

A horn sounded once again and the drums began to pound, matching the beating of her heart.

Could things go anymore wrong this day?

-To Be Continued-

Chapter Text

The Dwarves were silent, from Ori to Thorin. All of them couldn’t quite connect the woman who had been with them every step of the way from the Shire with this queenly figure now before them.

While they travelled Miss Baggins had been happy to talk with them, but there always seemed to be a wall that slammed up when certain things were mentioned and she would either answer a question as vaguely as possible or divert it entirely. Now it all made sense. It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable with them, it was that she was hiding something.

They cast their eyes about wildly. A big something… A whole mountain range worth of Goblins was definitely a big something.

There was a gleam in her eyes sharper than any blade they had carried, a gleam they had never seen before in the seemingly gentle Halfling’s gaze, and she was wearing a grin that told them as well as any words could that she was in charge of the situation.

Several of them (understanding just how precarious a position they were in) began to rapidly cast their minds back over their journey. Searching their memories for any grievance she may have against them.

They paled.

Their memories were not encouraging and they began with invading her burrow – it’s a smial! I’m not a rabbit – and emptying her pantry and ended with Thorin shouting at her and the way they had all ignored her soft sniffles. She no doubt thought she couldn’t be heard over the sound of the crashing rocks and the rain, but they were Dwarves and used to picking out sounds when all was chaos. A thunder storm and battling stone giants were nothing compared to the constant clamour of a mine.  

They were doomed.

When Gandalf arrived they couldn’t help but feel elated. After all, Gandalf knew Bilbo more than any of them did and besides, he was a wizard he would –

Any hope they felt promptly died when Bilbo unapologetically kept Gandalf separated from his staff. 

Now, more than ever, they were aware of the peering eyes of the countless Goblins. They were surrounded on all sides by enemies and they were defenceless. It was true they were only a matter of feet away from the pile of axes, hammers and swords that had been stripped from them but with the number of goblins surrounding them and it… well, it may as well have been a league.

They listened in stunned silence to the tale Bilbo told Gandalf. Hobbits had fought in battles? They all seemed such a soft lot with their lush fields and full pantries. Those who hadn’t heard Gandalf speak of Bullroarer Took that night in Bag End listened with astonishment written clearly on their faces.

A Hobbit - a being smaller than them - was supposed to have beheaded the Goblin King in battle? It was unbelievable. And yet here was Miss Baggins sitting on a throne – such an ostentatious chair could be nothing but – and here they were surrounded by her…her what exactly? Her Royal Guard?

Gandalf fell quiet and they all continued to follow his example. None of them knew exactly what to say anyway. Even Balin, always so ready with his words, was still rendered speechless.

They all turned slowly so as not to excite the attention of their captors and kept their eyes fixed on the Hobbit who it seemed had hidden depths none of them could have dreamt of.

She was circling around them, sticking to the edge of the wooden platform. She moved with a grace none of them had noticed before and as she moved beneath the torches the flickering flames caught the silver of her head dress and the gold in her hair.

She came to a stop and they watched in fascinated disgust as she reached out with a gloved hand, and, with one finger traced the skull of a skeleton tied to the securing poles of the bridge.  They had not noticed the decorations as they had been marched across the walkway.

Some of them followed her gaze and paled further at the sight of a matching skeleton on the other side of the bridge. They balked at the idea of them being gifts. Who would send Bilbo Baggins such a thing as a present?

Surprisingly, despite the disgruntled scrunch to her nose, Bilbo seemed more amused by the skeletons presence than anything else and even flicked the one she was admiring playfully with her finger.

They shuddered at the sight.

Bilbo now focused her attention on them again but before she could finish speaking they watched the colour drain from her face when a horn blast echoed about the cavern.

For the first time since she had appeared to them she seemed to be on the brink of panic. Her eyes darted about desperately until she snapped orders for them to be pushed in front of her throne, which placed her between them and the bridge.

All thoughts of remaining quiet fled and they found their voices again. They fought against the Goblins as they were herded towards the throne, throwing punches and curses with equal dexterity but it got them nowhere but where the Goblins wanted them to be.

“Silence!”

Bilbo’s sudden viciousness had them obeying her order just as the horn sounded again and the banging of drums thumped in their ears.

They looked to Gandalf who had been pushed to the throne with them for reassurance but received none.

He was staring wide eyed and slack jawed towards the bridge.

Bilbo breathed out steadily to calm herself. She had been given no time to prepare what to say or what to do. Everything had just fallen apart.

Well, all she could so was hope to avoid adding any more skeletons to her collection of sweet nothings.

She watched the tall figure approach, walking along the gently swaying bridge as though it was solid ground. She really needed to have that seen to. It would collapse one of these days.  Four underlings walked along behind him. They lacked his grace but were keeping pace with him admirably well despite the height difference.

Please stay quiet. Please stay quiet. She begged the Dwarves and Wizard silently as the caller came to a stop before her.

Bilbo had to crane her neck to see him but not for long.

The massive figure dropped to one knee and she could drop her head slightly to look into the pale blue eyes and heavily scared face of the last person the Dwarves would want to see.

Azog bent low over her hand which he had scooped up from her side with his only one.

She cleared her throat.

“Husband,” she hissed in the speech that sent chills down the spines of other races, drawing her lips back from her teeth to form the word.

Perhaps none of the company understood Black Speech.

“Wife,” he snarled into her skin.

There was a loud inhalation of breath behind and Azog’s head shot up from her hand.

It looked like someone understood Black Speech after all. 

She was going to kill Gandalf.  

---To Be Continued---

Chapter Text

Azog's eyes darted to meet her own. They were narrowed and she could see his nostrils flair as he breathed in deeply, taking in the scents around him. He looked directly behind her and she watched his eyes widen and then narrow again, his teeth bared in an animal like snarl.

This was not good.

It had been a simple instruction to follow and they couldn't even do that. What was so hard about staying quiet? Nothing. Absolutely nothing!

The massive Orc stood and stalked passed her. She reached desperately for his hand to stop him before he did something she would regret.

Her small hand grasping at his large one was almost comical.

"Azog –" she began only for him to cut her off with a snarl.

He slid his hand free of her grip easily enough and continued on.

He stalked towards the now desperately struggling Dwarves who were being kept in place by her circle of Goblins. The sounds of their shouting filled the cavern along with the shrieking of their keepers. Was that Balin and Dwalin struggling to keep Thorin back?

It was. The Dwarf was growling words at his men, struggling to get free of them, his eyes fixed on Azog.

What was he planning on doing exactly? All of their weapons – even the arsenal she knew Fili carried around with him – had been taken from them.

She watched almost in a daze as Azog plucked Throin from the crowd by his throat – Balin and Dwalin were shook off with a frightening ease - and slammed him viciously against one of the posts holding a flaming torch. The Dwarves doubled their efforts to get free but failed when her Captain of the Guard shouted for reinforcements to restore order and silence the prisoners – a bit late now but never mind.

Just what had she done to deserve this?

She had to stop this. Her feet were moving her forwards before she was even conscious of making the decision.

Her Captain of the Guard moved to stop her but she shook him off her arm and continued toward the fuming Orc.

Thorin's eyes were desperate but he never looked away from Azog and despite the fact that he must be finding it hard to breath his eyes remained wide open.

"Azog-"

"You dare bring this one here," he snarled at her, turning away from the struggling Dwarf.

"He is my guest!" she struggled to remain calm as Azog waved his metal limb towards her. The tip of it nearly brushing against the end of her nose. She could hear the snarling of her Captain but raised a hand to halt any movement he might make to intervene. She knew the Orc wouldn't think twice about throwing him over the side of the platform.

"He took my arm," he spat, turning his attention back to Thorin and placing the tip of his blade sharp limb menacingly to Thorin's chest. She watched it press into the Dwarves leathers…enough was enough.

"And you took his grandfather's head," she snarled at him, ready to end this insanity before the platform was stained with blood – a pest to get out, whole floor boards would have to be replaced – "At least you still have yours on your shoulders! So far, I fail to see the grievance!"

Azog's head slowly turned back to her and a smile of predatory satisfaction slowly spread across his snarling lips at the memory.

Bildo rolled her eyes wondering just how she had managed to keep her sanity all of this time. Well, obviously she had lost it at some points. She had agreed to an alliance with the Orcs after all….

"Now," she sighed, "Will you cease your shouting?" she quirked a brow and waited patiently for his reply, locking her knees to stop her legs from trembling. Her heart leapt over and over again in her chest as with each passing moment Azog still did not release Thorin.

Finally the Orc made a move, throwing back his head and laughing.

After his bout of amusement had ended he met her eyes and leaned down slightly to her level, his grip still firm on Thorin's throat. The Dwarf was beginning to turn an alarming shade of red as he struggled to draw breath.

"I shall take you head yet, little one," he spoke softly making the threat almost an endearment. Then again, the number of times he had threatened her with beheading she supposed it had become just that.

She smiled.

"You always say such nice things to me," she straightened and stood as tall as she could.

"They are my guests," she spoke in Common for the benefit of the now immobile Company, "And you will treat them as such,"

Azog scowled at her but she stubbornly kept her eyes meeting his and dropped her voice.

"Or you and your men can sleep with the Wargs this night!" she hissed.

Azog cocked his head to the side – assessing her. She frowned at him. The seconds passed and her Captain began to shift closer to her – he never had trusted Azog around her and was always on his guard.

Spotting this the white Orc bared his teeth at the Goblin beside her before throwing Thorin from him and into the crowd where he had plucked him.

Bilbo winced as Thorin landed on several Dwarves – taking more than one of her Goblins down with him. They all struggled to stand after the shock of having Thorin Oakenshield tossed at them with no warning. She noticed the Gandalf had managed to avoid the mess entirely. Typical.

Relief made her limbs turn to water and she was glad of her Captain gripping her arm to steady her despite Azog snarling at them and glaring at the hand on her arm.

He brushed passed her.

"I have a gift for you, wife,"

Oh dear.

Patting the Goblin's hand in thanks he released her and she turned slowly. Not daring to think what her husband's 'gift' could be. The Company had been disgusted by the skeletons but they didn't know the bones weren't the worse things he had brought to her.

"A gift?" she spoke to his back.

He was striding towards his men who had been standing back the whole time.

She noticed now that one of them had a sack over his back. She could see with the flickering lights that it was stained with dark patches of – she gulped and looked away. She didn't want to know what it was stained with but as Azog was handed the bag she knew she was about to find out.

The Goblins – still watching after all this time on the walkways – cheered at the mention of a gift. They all thought his gifts fitting, and she had no doubt, romantic. Bilbo supposed they were. If you were an Orc.

She couldn't fault him. Azog did try. She remembered one memorable occasion when he had presented her with a severed head on a bed of poison ivy, dandelions and stinging nettles… It was the thought that counted.

He tipped the sack and she leapt back as the mangled remains of a…she thought it was an Orc, toppled out and landed with a collection of thuds and thunks onto the wooden boards.

She forced herself to look back at her present when she saw the proud look upon the giver's face. She gulped, forcing down the bile at the smell. She would have oils burned in the torches for the foreseeable future. Maybe there was some lavender left in the stores…

Bilbo knew what a wolf attack looked like. No one who had survived the Fell Winter had done so without gaining that knowledge. And she knew that something a lot larger than a wolf had savaged the creature at her feet.

"And what was this fool's crime that you threw him to the Wargs?" she asked as casually as she could, flicking the trailing fabric of her gown out of the way of the mangled flesh.

She knew that he only ever brought her enemies or traitors and wondered which one this was.

"A spy,"

Now this caught her attention and she looked at Azog expectantly, waiting for him to add more when a commotion began once again behind her.

Azog snarled in the direction of the Dwarves but thankfully remained where he was.

"Captain,"

The Goblin came to stand in front of her and stood as straight as his slightly stooped back allowed him.

"Show our guests to their accommodation for the evening," after all, there was no point in trying to speak with Thorin – or any of the Company – right now. None of them would be in a receptive frame of mind. Even cheerful Bofur had no doubt reached his limit.

"The cells, my Queen?"

Oh for the love of-

"No, Captain," she replied wearily, "To the guest rooms. They are to be guarded at all times and fed. I will send for them later,"

Just what time was it now anyway?

It didn't matter she had matters of far more importance to deal with than the Dwarves and while she was doing that it would give them time to calm down.

The guards hurried the Company away and she tried to ignore the curses some of them levelled at her in their confusion and anger. Gandalf was casting a look filled with disappointment at her and she tried to not let it hurt.   

"Half rations for the filth," Azog snarled after them.

"Azog-"

"It will teach them," he replied, leaving it at that and the Captain of the Guard nodded his head in understanding.

Bilbo sighed, not bothering to correct Azog's order. She had a feeling that even if she did her Captain would ignore her. This seemed to be one of the rare occasions where he agreed with her husband.

She looked around.

They were still being watched by countless eyes and she gestured to Golfimbul who had been standing like a statue by her throne through all of the drama.

He lumbered towards her, nodding respectfully to Azog while voiding the Orc's eyes.

"In two days I shall have an audience with all who require it," she told the giant.

"Very well, your Majesty," he bowed theatrically and she couldn't resist smiling at him as he stood straight and shouted her plans.

There was a general cheer and finally coming to the decision that the entertainment was over the Goblins began to drift away.

She looked up at Azog.

"I believe we have some things to discuss,"

---To Be Continued---

Chapter Text

The room was cosy. Well, as cosy as a room dug out of solid rock and inside a mountain could be. Bilbo had done everything that she could to make it so but it would never feel the same as Bag End. The stone walls would never hold the same warmth as being surrounded by earth.

Not long after her coronation – if it could even be called by such a grand title - she had tried to insist on a wooden home in the common living quarters where most of the Goblin population of the Misty Mountains resided but it had been one of the few things her Captain of the Guard had strongly disagreed with her on. It would be too difficult to guard, too many access points…too easily set ablaze with her inside (she didn't want to think about who would want to burn a building with her in it).

As it was there was one main entrance to her rooms and a secret passage hidden behind one of several heavy and very old tapestries on the wall.

Coincidently all of the workers who had been involved in crafting the room had perished in a cave in.

Bilbo suspected that her Captain may have taken his duties on secrecy and protection a little too far and orchestrated the deaths of anyone else who knew about the hidden exit. But as it seemed to be nothing but an accident there was nothing that she could do about it. However, that did not excuse the very pleased look he got whenever it was mentioned. Bilbo had learned that in some cases there really was bliss in ignorance.

So, at the insistent of her Captain, she continued to live in a glorified cave. Her Hobbit sensibilities suffered but there was no other answer for it.

It was pleasant enough as far as living accommodations went. It was no Bag End, but then nothing would be.

Heavy rugs littered the floor as well as the walls. Various animal furs, from wolf to fox (gifts she actually approved of) lay over the few chairs that dotted the room and on the low bench seat by the fire.

Lighting fires within the mountain was difficult because of the lack of ventilation but her suite was one of the few that had small channels the led to the surface. Bilbo didn't dare to think what would happen if these channels ever needed sweeping.

The room had been quickly prepared for her after her rapid visit to change her clothes. The fire had been lit and she was glad to see a tray of food sitting on a table. A decanter filled with a ruby red liquid sat on another table next to a jug.

Bilbo walked over to the drinks and held up a heavy wooden goblet that was almost the size of her arm and had quite a bit of weight to it.

She raised it towards her visitor.

"Wine?" she asked her companion, already knowing the answer, "Or ale?"

Azog stepped into the room, having to duck slightly to gain entrance and grunted.

"Ale it is then," she muttered as she went to lift the jug. She could hardly lift it without her arm trembling and a dry chuckle came from the Orc.

Bilbo was about to give him a tongue lashing when she was gently shoved out of the way and Azog took over pouring the drink. She watched as he effortlessly picked up the full jug and poured out the amber liquid into the goblet. She moved to pour her own drink only for him to beat her to it.

It was amazing to watch the massive hand close about the fine crystal decanter and pour the wine so gently into the glass that was just as delicate looking. She had no doubt that he could smash the thing with one hand and very little effort.

She took the wine glass from him with a smile of thanks and took a sip of the warm liquid as she picked her way across the room to the fire and curled up on the fur covered bench. She leaned back against the feather stuffed cushioned and sighed in bliss-filled comfort.

She could hear Azog shifting behind her but it didn't worry her as much as it used to. Once upon a time his shifting about used to make her nervous – as was only natural - but now she knew he would sit when he wanted and not before. He was not used to such confined spaces and even the high ceiling of the cave was cramped compared to the open air.

Bilbo stared into the flames while her husband settled himself and she sipped at her wine, savouring the way it slid down her throat and warmed her from the inside out. She was surrounded by warmth. The furs beneath her were soft and comfortably heated from the fire and she couldn't stop herself from stroking the rich hair. She glanced down and identified the pelt she was sitting on as wolf.

She smiled and chuckled at the irony. A wolf had nearly ripped her throat out a long time ago and now here she was very much alive and using one of its brethren as a seat covering. She gave an unladylike snort and took another drink of her wine in a silent salute to her own survival. Life was funny.

"Dwarves?" the snarl came from behind her.

Bilbo smiled and raised her glass in a silent toast to the fire.

And there we have it.

Bilbo supposed that she should be grateful he stayed quiet during the walk to her rooms. This was not a conversation she had felt like having in front of anyone else. At all. The smile faded from her lips and she sighed. It was time to face the consequences of her ridiculous decision.

"Yes, dwarves," she agreed with a small nod.

As long as they were stating the obvious she would play along with him.

"And a wizard?"

Ah, so he had spotted Gandalf and by the sounds of it he was not happy with his presence at all.

Who was she trying to fool? Of course he had seen Gandalf. It was almost impossible to not see the gangly wizard in a sea of Dwarves and Goblins.

"And a wizard," she nodded her head.

And I really hope they are guarding his staff properly. Bilbo wouldn't put it past Gandalf to find some way of getting to his staff and if he did the whole realm would all be aware of it very quickly. Bilbo had never seen Gandalf as anything but the benevolent grandfatherly figure he had portrayed since her childhood. But she wasn't a child any more and she knew what the troublemaker was capable of when he put his mind to it.

She heard a deep grumble behind her that grew into a snarl.

Bilbo knew that if she was to turn around it would be to find Azog's teeth bared and his eyes blade sharp.

It looked like the conversation about his spy would be put off for the time being in favour of her thirteen Dwarves and one Wizard.

"Why?" he snarled.

Unlike when speaking with Elrond she did not worry about what to tell or what not to tell the Orc.

Bilbo took a gulp of her wine and allowed herself a moment to compose herself.

She told him everything.

-To Be Continued-

Chapter Text

Azog had finally worked his way from standing somewhere behind her and snarling to sitting on the rug covered floor with his back against the bench by her legs. And snarling. Always snarling. She couldn't really expect anything less under the circumstances. He had moved the whole time with such a predatory steadiness that Bilbo couldn't even remember when he had sat down.

The only interruptions to her story were his growls, which she ignored in favour of continuing her tale.

"The wizard wants the Dwarves to kill the dragon?" he spoke once she had reached the end of her story and he had stopped chuckling at the image of the Dwarves falling into the trap.

"Mmm, or at least to determine if it still lives," she swished the last of her wine around the glass and downed it in one, placing the glass on the floor and settling back into the furs.

Azog chuckled darkly into his goblet, shaking his head and taking a gulp.

"What of the pack that followed us into Elrond's lands?" she asked, reminding him of that part of the story and glad to finally have the opportunity to know just what had happened to cause the Company to be hunted the way they had been.

Azog tensed, the muscles in his back knotting and his fingers curling tightly about the goblet until the wood protested.

"Yazneg," he rumbled.

Bilbo frowned and tried to think through the pleasant fig created by the wine… Yazneg? Yazneg? Yazneg?

She should know that name…

"Yazneg?"

He turned from the fire and presented her with a sharp toothed grin. The gleam in his eyes was sharper than his teeth.

"My gift,"

My gift?

Oh. She remembered who he was now.

He was Azog's second in command... There was some sort of title for him but Bilbo just felt glad remembering who he was. What he had been was irrelevant.

"Your..." Oh bother. Not so irrelevant after all... Captain. Captain was a good a title as any.

"Your captain was the spy?" she asked in horror, her wine loosened tongue tripping over some of the words.

She wasn't drunk. She just hadn't realised how tired she was for the alcohol to effect her so strongly.

Azog was very careful about who he surrounded himself with. He was more than aware of the dangers of allowing someone too close who was not deserving of the positions That this Yazneg had managed to get himself so much into her husband's good graces (not that he had any) was shocking to her.

Azog grunted in acknowledgement.

The Orc never was one for speaking if one noise would accomplish the same as a sentence.

But what did that have to do with –

Oh.

Everything fell into place in her mind.

The Company being hunted across the plains. The Orcs foolishly pursuing them into Elf territory despite everyone knowing the terms of the treaty. Yazneg being the spy…

"He led the pack into Elf territory knowing what would happen,"

It had been no accident. No indiscretion caused by the rush of the hunt.

"Some of my best were in the party," Azog grumbled, "The fool returned to tell me they had been ambushed by Elves and all had died," he laughed darkly, "He should have checked. One still lived,"

One of the pack had survived the Elves? That was a miracle in itself. Lord Elrond's archers were deadly accurate with their arrows.

"Was he injured?"

Azog snorted at her enquiry, no doubt finding it irrelevant. He answered her all the same.

"He will live,"

Well, that was reassuring.

"He limped into camp days before Yazneg and told all,"

"Days?" she asked.

"Reporting to his master," Azog threw the goblet into the fire. The flames snapped and crackled as the remnants of ale blistered and boiled. The flames licked greedily at the fine wood of the goblet.

"Well," she huffed, getting to her feet to retrieve another goblet and fill it with more ale. After Azog had emptied some into the goblet the first time around she should be able to lift the jug now. She hoped. She scooped up her empty wine glass also, "I hope you got some information out of him before you threw him to the wargs?"

She returned to her seat quickly - if a little unsteadily - and handed the Orc a newly refilled goblet. She hoped this one would be meeting the same fate as the first. They were fine work. Too good to be thrown on the fire in such a careless way. She glanced into the fire and saw that none of the fine wood was left in the midst of the flames.

Azog sat quietly and she began to grow nervous.

"Azog," it was almost impossible to speak softly, consolingly, in Black Speech but never let it be said that Bilbo Baggins didn't try, "Who was he spying for?"

"Bolg,"

The one word answer told her a multitude of things. She knew that Azog and his son were not on the best of terms – they had parted ways long before her birth – but that his son would have someone so close to Azog spy on him was a little hard for Bilbo to grasp. After all what would he accomplish? Did he want Yazneg to kill his father? There must have been countless chances for Yazneg to plant a sword in Azog's back…

"'My master serves the one,'"

Bilbo froze at the words. She didn't know what they meant but they sounded terrifying as Azog spoke them with an unemotional tone.

"What?"

"That was his words before I took his skull in my hand," Bilbo watched him raise the hand with the goblet and squeeze. She had a feeling she would be waving goodbye to another cup before the evening was out.

She nearly spilled her wine in fright when he jerked forward with his other arm and pantomimed stabbing someone with it and throwing them away.

"He spoke no more filth after that,"

"If," she steadied herself after the sudden scare he had given her by shifting into another position on the bench. She scooted to the far side and swung her legs up and into the empty space. It allowed her a better view of her husband if anything, "Bolg is his master, then who is 'the one'?" she asked curiously, but suspecting she would be much happier not knowing.

A darkness had been rising. Drawing all the weak willed and evil to it.

"You arrive in the middle of a tale little one," he told her.

She quirked an eyebrow at this. Speaking in riddles was not a habit of her husband. He was one of the most straight forward people she knew…in a skewer first ask questions later kind of way.

"He was meant to be bound, never to be able to rise again and yet it has happened,"

Bound?

"Is this 'one' the reason for the clans splitting?" she asked, trying to wrap her mind around what she was being told. Trying to understand something centuries older than herself.

"They fear and so they serve," he growled at the fire, taking a deep drink of his ale.

She could understand serving a master through fear to a certain extent but…

She wiggled forward on her seat and resting her elbows on her knees perched her chin on her hands. Bilbo narrowed her eyes as she looked at her husband. This was a side of him she could not remember ever seeing before. He looked almost contemplative as he gazed into the fire. The flames illuminated his pale skin and the crack and crevices of the scars that decorated his face and chest.

"Who are they serving?"

"Sauron,"

-To Be Continued-

Chapter Text

“The wizard has a feel for the evil things in this land,” Azog trailed off and Bilbo remained silent, trying to think through what her husband had just told her.

The most evil, wicked being imaginable – thought to have been rendered incapable of causing mischief ages ago – was stirring and had an army of countless dark creatures willing to carry out his bidding.

Did Gandalf know just to what extent things had deteriorated or was taking care of the dragon more of a precaution than anything else?

Heavens, if Smaug did side with this dark lord there would be no hope for them. After all even the mighty Thranduil had turned his back on the desolation the Dragon had wrought to Erebor.

There was no alternative…

“I will speak with Gandalf,” she braced herself, “And Thorin,” her husband snarled.

“They need to know,” she tried to speak softly, convincingly…but the truth was she was frightened, terrified even of the story Azog had told her. She slid from her bench and onto the floor beside her husband, reassured by his strong, solid presence and leaned against his arm.

He remained still and silent for some time. Just watching the fir. And then with no warning at all she was in his lap and looking straight into his white, scarred face, made all the more frightening by the dancing firelight.

“You believe it to be wise?”

Bilbo nodded and planted her hands on his shoulders to straighten herself. Honestly, just being swept up in such a way was not terribly comfortable.

“I do,”

He stared at her and she nervously began to run her fingers – soothingly she hoped – along his neck and then up to his ears. She gently traced the lobes and then up to the ragged point – one of the only remnants of what he had once been, so long ago.

“Should it come to was,” which she feared it would if things continued at the pace they were at, “would an alliance not be beneficial?” she asked.

He snarled, baring his teeth at her but she wasn’t worried. She knew that snarl. It was the one he flashed at her when he knew she was right and he wasn’t happy about it.

With his one hand he grasped her own, lowering it from his head and just holding it in his large paw. She could feel the cold metal of his other arm against her back through the layers of her gown as he supported her. Despite his threats of having her head she knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

“Very well,” he grunted, not meeting her eyes as he continued to study her hand…well, their hands. He ran his large digits along her own, circled her wrist and seemed fascinated with her veins.

“You have your way all too often, little one,”

She snorted in amusement at this and taking her free hand which had remained on his neck she touched his cheek to draw his attention from her hand and to her face. 

He finally looked up after taking his own sweet time. He had obviously decided she had had her own way a little too much this evening.

“Only when I am right, yes?”

He chuckled and without as much as a by your leave she found herself once again being manhandled.

This time she was laid before the fire on the thick rug, she sunk into the warm fur and her hands automatically touched the soft fibre. She remained still as Azog threw a few more logs onto the fire – she knew the caves would grow terribly chilly within minutes of the fire dying but she hoped to be asleep by then – and then tugged some of the pelts and cushions from the bench and onto the floor.

In no time at all he had a little nest prepared from them and was tugging her to his chest.

It was obviously bed time then.

Well really!

“Really Azog,” she groaned, “There is a bed just over-“

He drew her tighter against him, effectively silencing her.

“Sleep,” he rumbled.

He had her pressed so tightly against him she could feel the word through his chest and into her back.

“Very well,” she grouched, “But tomorrow we sleep in the bed,”

A grunt was her only reply.

Shifting herself slightly and adjusting her gown – to blazes with the man he would have her go to bed without letting her change – so it didn’t twist so uncomfortably about her legs she snuggled in to sleep and tried to put all thought of Dark Lords and Dwarves to the back of her mind.

She fell asleep to the thrumming of her husband's heart.

----

Bilbo didn’t know just how long she had slept for but the still flickering flames told her it had not been that long.

With the heavy arm of her husband wrapped about her middle she was unable to move so she lay in the darkness and watched the fire as one by one the flames grew smaller and died. Until nothing but glowing embers was left in the fire.

Her mind refused to quiet.

Everything she had been told, everything she had thought, all of the fears she had been trying to hide or force down over she couldn’t remember how long flooded her and allowed her to rest now that she was once again awake.

How could it be that she of all people was in the situation that she was in now?

Of course she knew that if it wasn’t her it would just be someone else and if it wasn’t now it would be another time, but still! Why her and why now?

She shifted slightly in Azog’s hold so that she was more curled into him than towards the now dead fire and sighed.

Like all women she supposed when she had been young she had daydreamed of her future spouse.

When she was young and – she would readily admit – a bit of an idiot when it came to such things, she had dreamed of falling in love. Of a burning passion that would eclipse all else. Of someone dark, handsome and brooding. Just the way she had imagined the heroes in the old tales to be. Like some of the rangers she had sometimes caught site of.

Someone like…

Bilbo sighed.

Someone just like Thorin.

Oh yes, every inch of his brooding, stubborn Dwarven self, matched her girlhood dreams of her future spouse.  

Someone who was the very opposite of the plodding, steady, and to her younger self boring Hobbits about her.

And then she had grown and by the time she had reached her coming of age her thoughts of a future husband and drifted towards someone smiling and happy. Someone who would be a good husband and an excellent father to their children.

Someone who would try to make her smile when she was sad. Someone who she would feel a little flutter in her chest when she succeeded in doing the same to him, or when they shared a joke.

Someone like Bofur.

Yes, it was indeed funny how life turned out.

Fate had really outdone herself where Bilbo was concerned.

The body behind her pulled her closer to its chest and she went willingly, snuggling into the broad chest and shifting about again so that her head was the only thing above the mismatched pile of furs that was covering her.

Her life hadn’t turned out how she had expected but she was content with her lot.

She closed her eyes and tried once again to forget…

---To Be Continued---

Chapter Text

Bilbo woke when the tight hold on her body was released and her weight was dropped fully onto the furs beneath her. She opened her eyes, unwilling to wake but panicing for a second when she couldn’t remember where she was.

The room – it was a room, yes? – was dark and cold. She could smell the stale smell of wood smoke and over that the smell of burnt oil and wax.

Slowly and sleep addled she connected the pieces and remembered where she was.

She was no longer in Bag End, or on the road with a Company of smelly, groaning Dwarves and one wizard (she couldn’t forget about Gandalf now could she), or even in the fine room at Rivendell.

No, she was back home. Back in the Misty Mountains. And she had fallen asleep in the arms of her husband… And she had a lot to do today.

Bilbo wished she had managed to stay asleep and blissfully unaware a little bit longer.

As soon as she remembered everything her heart began to beat in her chest and her stomach began to churn.

She really hoped her Captain of the Guard had carried out her instructions and taken the Company to the spare caverns – she called them ‘guest rooms’ but she was more than aware that they were just glorified storage rooms (she should really do something about that) – and fed them (even if it was just half rations like Azog had insisted on it would be better than nothing on an empty stomach).

She felt Azog shift and the heat of his body left hers entirely as he stood and left the room, no doubt to check on his men and the wargs.

She remained a few minutes longer in the heat of the furs before finally building up the nerve to face the cold and wash. There was no chance of her getting back to sleep anyway.

She stood slowly, aching all over. Even if it was covered in furs, she had still spent the night on the floor and she was paying for it now.

The wretched man! This was all his fault!

She hobbled to the entrance of her chambers, banging into some of the furniture in the darkness.

Bilbo squinted as pain lanced through her eyes at the orange light of the burning torches set into the walls of the passage.

Bravely – she thought – she lowered the hand she had slapped over her eyes and scanned the shadows for the guards she knew her Captain would have posted in case she needed them.

She found them, but only because they shifted away from the wall at the sight of her. They straightened their hunched forms as much as they could, their chests puffed out and their hands on their weapons.

Ready and at attention.

She smiled tiredly, thanked them for their service of the night and sent one of them scampering off to find some maids – or what passed as maids in the Misty Mountains – to bring hot water.

While Azog was gone she peeled herself free from her gown and washed in the water that was brought for her and thought of just what she was going to say to Thorin now that the time was at hand.

Azog strode back into her private chamber just as she was straightening up from roughly rubbing at her hair with a length of linen. She really needed to give it a trim, with her head upside down like it had been the tips had nearly touched the floor.

She grimaced as her still damp hair splatted against her back and the water soaked through her shift. The maids had coaxed the fire to life one again but it would take more time than she had to be in the room for the temperature to rise to a bearable level.

Bilbo nodded to her husband but otherwise ignored him as she continued to ready herself with care and precision.

Her gown of the day before was past redemption and wouldn’t be fit to be worn again until it had been given a good soaking and hung to allow the creases to drop out of it. She blamed Azog completely for the state of her favourite gown. If the silly man hadn’t made her sleep in it she would have been able to wear it again but not now.

She liked that dress. It gave her confidence and made her feel regal. It had been a gift from Lord Elrond and had boning in the bodice, making her walk straight and tall…

But there was no point in thinking on that. She was stuck wearing something else that while equally lovely to look at didn’t make her feel the same. Which was a shame because she had a feeling that she would need all of the confidence (begged, borrowed or stolen) she could get her hands on for the interview that was about to take place.

She tied herself into the gown she decided on and noted the appreciative glance Azog gave the intricate leather work that overlaid the front of the gown from hips to bust. Her back straightened at this and she smiled.

She made quick work of gathering her still damp curls high onto the back of her head and only succeeded in pinning some of them up, the rest fell curling around her ears and over the curves of her ‘crown’ in damp ringlets.

She glanced into the mirror and admired her work.

With her hair escaping its confines and her favourite gown laying in a creased pile on her bed she found her reflection lacking.

She wanted to look the part of a queen, a ruler of a realm. A strong ruler. A knowing ruler. All she saw was Bilbo Baggins looking back at her and no amount of finery or clothes would change that. She remembered dressing in her mother’s clothes as a child… This was what she felt like now as she looked in the mirror. She was just an imposter in borrowed clothes.

She struggled to recapture the feeling of power she had revelled in the night before as she stood before the shocked company… But it was lost…

What was she going to say to Thorin to convince him? Or Gandalf?

She looked away from her own reflection when Azog stepped into her line of sight. His massive frame taking up the whole of the glass.

She would have laughed at his having to duck to see his face in the glass if she wasn’t truly terrified of meeting with Thorin.

“Your armour suits you well, wife,” her husband hissed at her back and he dropped to his knees behind her.

Her armour?

She went to turn and face him but his huge hands closing on her waist stopped her.

Her eyes met his in the glass and he nodded his head as she felt his fingers trace the small patterns etched into the leather over her ribs.

He pulled her backwards, holding her tightly against chest, making her stand straighter…prouder.

“You are queen,” he hissed behind her, his eyes never leaving hers.

I am queen. I am queen. I am queen.

Bilbo felt ill.

Food. That’s what she needed. She was a Hobbit and no decent, self-respecting Hobbit could be expected to take on the task she was about to with an empty stomach.

“Yes I am,” she snarled back, “And this queen needs breakfast,”

---To Be Continued---

Chapter Text

Bilbo had delayed the meeting for as long as she could manage. She had taken her time having breakfast – although truth be told she had only picked at the food her Goblins had provided her with (it was her favourites too, bless their hearts) – had drank more than one cup of tea (that had been no hardship, the fine delicate Elven brew went down a treat in the morning) and had taken care of several pressing matters that had been neglected during her absence.

Goblins – young and old – were going missing in the lower tunnels and it was concerning. Accidents happened, of course they did, but that was in the mines not when going from point a to point b.  She had told the guards to spread the word that all were to travel through the mountain in pairs at the very least. It was only a precaution and would not solve the issue entirely until they found what was leading to the disappearances, but it would do for now.

The mountains were vast on the outside but in the inside they were a labyrinth and it frightened her to think that something could be lurking in the tunnels and picking off the Goblins unlucky enough to cross it’s path.

Inventories of the food stores had been brought to her, as well as the mining reports and all was running smoothly – although they would need to restock with the perishable vegetables soon. A trading delegation would be due in a month or so and looking at the numbers scratched into the slate handed to her they would just last that long. The Giant’s would be finished with their battling by then and it would be safe once again for travelers.

Bilbo had even penned a letter to Lord Elrond, explaining just why an Orc band had crossed the treaty line.

She had glanced over at her husband – standing with his dagger in his hand and running the blade beneath his nails – and frowned.

“There are no other treaty violation I should be aware of?”

He looked away from his hands and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Are there?” she asked, icily.

How was she supposed to build any kind of relationship with the other rulers if the treaties were continually being broken by fools who couldn’t control themselves?  She knew it was in their nature and she shouldn’t really blame them, but it made things so difficult.

“No, wife,” he had told her, returning to his claws…

Bilbo had continued to drag her feet until she knew she was being ridiculous.

So she had finally taken her courage in both hands and had Thorin sent for and brought to her private audience chamber.

Bilbo was no judge when it came to caves – one was pretty much the same as the next in her eyes – but even she would admit that her audience chamber was one of the more depressing caverns in the whole mountain range. Unlike her private chambers, which were small and cosy, this was stark.

There was a chair upon a platform for her to sit on, a fireplace and poles with burning torches dotted about strategically to light the space and that was all.

Right now she sat with her Captain of the Guard standing ever present slightly behind her and Azog standing to the side, towering over them all, and observed two of her guests.

Bilbo’s head was throbbing - a familiar malady when in the presence of Thorin Oakenshield she had found over the past weeks – and they hadn’t even started talking yet.

The throne-less king was standing stubbornly silent and glowering before her. His dark mood making him appear to fill the whole of the audience chamber.

Gandalf – of course he had managed to talk Thorin into allowing him to come to this interview – was standing to the side of him, sans staff, she noted thankfully, and no doubt plotting something. The wizard’s eyes were dimmer than Bilbo was used to seeing them, and his wrinkles more pronounced as he narrowed his gaze upon her.

She snuffed out the desire to shift like the child she had once been in his eyes and glanced to either side of her chair as Azog and her Captain moved closer to her. It seemed that they were not blind to the wizards look either.

She was a queen and all of her actions were for the benefit of her people and she did not need Gandalf the Grey to approve of her.

Bilbo sighed inwardly.

She knew she was lying to herself. Gandalf would always be someone whose approval she desired… But in this case she would do without it if she had to.

“Should I tear out the Wizard’s eyes wife?” Azog hissed by her ear, bending slightly.

She nearly giggled as his breath brushed again her skin and tickled her ear. She bit her cheek to put a rapid halt to that inappropriate (under the circumstances) response and shook her head in refusal of the offer.

There had been a time when such things had truly troubled her but she had grown used to the strange way he had of showing his concern.

She brushed her fingers against his arm in silent thanks for his support, however disturbing it may be to others. She could feel the warmth of his skin through her customary gloves and wondered how he managed to stay so warm. The cold of the mountains always made her feel as though she was just on the brink of shivering, even with her gloves.

She noticed both Thorin and Gandalf had shifted their gazes and they stared in disgusted fascination at her hand.

Bilbo pulled away from the Orc slowly and replaced her hand on the smooth wood of the chair. She had nothing to hide or be ashamed of but she was not used to such scrutiny. She didn’t like it. She rallied her control lest Azog bypass asking her opinion and go straight to the plucking of eyes.

“I hope-“ she cleared her throat, her voice sounding high and nervous even to her own ears. This would never do.

“I hope,” that was better, “that my guards have been treating you well, and that none of you were injured in anyway by the,” she waved her hand around, “fall,”

It was Gandalf who answered while Thorin remained stubbornly silent, jerking his arm free from the grip of the Goblin at his side only to have it taken hold of again.

She thought to warn him that if the draft changed direction his face would be stuck like that but thought better of it.

Beside it mattered little. She very rarely saw him with any expression other than sour on his face. It may well save him energy to have it fixed into place.

“Yes, thank you my dear, none of the Company were injured,” Gandalf cast a frown at Thorin – the kind one would level at a rebellious toddler -  before looking back at her, “although the food was a little…lacking,”

Biblo only quirked an eyebrow at this, daring Gandalf to continue. Her look, surprisingly, silenced him.

She was glad that none of them were hurt - especially the younger members of the Company – and even if the food was ‘lacking’ (oh, her Hobbit sensibilities bristled at this insult and he knew it!) it was better than nothing. And under the circumstances they were all fortunate to be alive. Azog would have thrown them all from the platform the night before without batting an eye lid had she not intervened.

She was not happy with Gandalf’s presence, she had hoped to speak with her mother’s old friend in private but it looked like she would not get her wish.

Bilbo looked at Thorin.

He looked well enough, his frown was in fine form and his eyes were shooting sparks at her as if he would stop her heart then and there if he could.

Yes, he was just fine.

It would be a miracle if the stubborn fool listened to her at all. Maybe she should have requested Gandalf’s presence first and explained things. She could hardly imagine Thorin badgering Gandalf into bringing him along. Maybe then Gandalf could have talked to Thorin.

Thorin was the leader. The future king of Erebor if they succeeded with their quest and she would not speak to him through a wizard who worked to his own motives.

“I asked you here for a reason,” she cleared her throat and took a breath, “An alliance,”

Bilbo had thought she had seen the Company’s fearless leader angry before but this was something entirely new.

Thorin Oakenshield seemed to explode in front of her.

Oh dear. Perhaps she could have gone about that a bit differently and really, did Thorin have to be so insulting with his…his…insults!

Azog stepped down from his place at her side and rounded on the Dwarf who was abandoned by his Goblin guard as soon as her husband began his approach. Clever one that.

Her husband did a bit of exploding of his own.

Bilbo balled up her hands and walloped the armrests on either side of her with her gloved fists.

Oh rot!

---To Be Continued---

Chapter Text

Bilbo pinched her nose and breathed. Just breathed, as Azog and Thorin glared at one another and threw insults.

She placed a hand on her Captain’s arm as he moved to intervene and shook her head. She wouldn’t have him or any of the guards put in danger at the moment.

“Have a table brought in here and the midday meal,” it had to be near lunchtime - hopefully, “brought when it is prepared,”

“Yes, Majesty,” the Goblin bowed.

“The rest of the Dwarves are to be brought here also,”

Her Captain did not approve of this and he made little secret of his feelings.

“They will be guarded well,”

Bilbo sighed but nodded. There was no point in arguing over such a thing if it made the Goblin happy.

Besides, they may well need the extra guards to tear Azog and Thorin from each other’s throats if they continued on the way they were.

While her Captain spoke to one of his underlings she looked back to the Orc and the Dwarf who were currently snarling insults at each other in their native tongues.

She was impressed with Azog’s self-control. Usually he would have had the offender by the throat at this point but it seemed he was content using his words – a rare event indeed – for the time being.

It was amusing in a way to watch them spit and snarl, the difference in their statures almost comical under the circumstances. Her husband, tall, broad and as pale as death. Thorin, perhaps tall for a Dwarf, perhaps broad for a Dwarf and dressed in his dark leather and furs. Both of them equally enraged. It didn’t matter what Thorin was ‘for a Dwarf’ thought, in comparison to Azog he looked like an enraged child throwing a tantrum.

She recalled Thorin struggling to be free of Balin and Dwalin the night before and shook her head again at the ridiculous man. Ignoring the fact that Azog was in the company of several of his men who would not have stood by and watched as someone tried to kill their leader, her husband could crush the Dwarf without a second thought.

The fight continued.

She had not sent for Thorin to have them argue and insult one another, and, as one of the Goblins went scuttling from the room to carry out her orders. she decided she did not want the rest of the Company shown into the room while their leader and her husband beat their chests at one another – what sort of example would that be?

“I do not ask,” she shouted, the steel in her voice finally bringing the bickering to an end and both men looked towards her, “that you be bosom friends for the rest of your days,” even she wasn’t optimistic enough to think that the years of animosity and hate between the two men could be swept under the carpet. After all, Thorin had spent longer than she had lived hating Azog.

She softened her voice now that all was quiet.

“All I ask, is that we form an alliance for as long as is needed and then we can see to the treaties. That is all,”

“Treaties with an Orc,” Thorin snapped incredulously, “I might as well put my hand in a wolf’s mouth and expect it not to bite me,”

Azog hissed something under his breath in reply to this, something that Bilbo didn’t catch but she was sure it was anything but complementary.

She shot him a withering look. Honestly she needed them to act with some sort of decorum and as the leaders that they were instead of the children they currently acted like.

“Bilbo is correct,” Gandalf spoke up from where he had made himself comfortable on one of the steps beneath her chair – several guards hovering worriedly about him.

She breathed steadily. She did not want Thorin to agree to what she proposed just because Gandalf and his meddling ways convinced him – begrudgingly though it would be – to do so.

Azog bared his teeth at the wizard but remained silent, opting to come and stand by her once again. He had to walk passed Gandalf on the step as he did so and she was proud of her husband for avoiding the wizard and not giving into the temptation that was no doubt burning within him to purposefully knock the other man over.   

“Why would I need to form an alliance with,” Thorin looked her up and down and she felt about an inch tall, “you?”

The arrival of the requested table gave her some time to think.

This was why she had wanted to speak with Gandalf separately and tell him of what they knew.

She sat back in her chair and looked at the Dwarf and the Wizard who had got up from his spot on the step when Azog had come to her side. No doubt having the Orc at his back was making him nervous.

“You know the dangers Smaug presents, do you not Gandalf?” Gandalf seemed startled at being addressed and she looked at him, waiting for a reply.

“Smaug?” Thorin scoffed, “The dragon has not been seen in years. He is no doubt dead, rotting in Erebor and being feasted on by rats,”

What a lovely image that conjured?

“Fool,” Azog snarled.

She was inclined to agree. While she did not have first-hand experience with the beasts she had read of them and she knew they were long lived. Perhaps as long as Elves. For a creature that size, sixty years could be nothing but a catnap.

She ignored Thorin and waited for Gandalf.

“What do you know of this?” he asked her softly, his eyes old.

More than she wanted to, that was for certain. If ignorance was bliss then she would have been in paradise not knowing of the dark things in this world.

“There are shadows, Gandalf,” she whispered her eyes never leaving his, “And these shadows are growing. You,” she glanced to Thorin, “may well be grateful of an alliance, believe me,”

The Wizard took a wobbly step forwards. Unsure of his motives her Captain tensed and moved to stand between her and the man.

She needed to speak with Gandalf. She was not happy with sending Thorin from the room like a child not old enough to hear adults talk but there was no way around it now.

“Leave us,” she gestured to the entrance as her Captain turned.

“I wish to have a private audience with the Wizard, I shall call when we are ready,”

Grumbling and frowning her Captain grunted for the room to be emptied and taking Thorin roughly by the arm marched the struggling Dwarf from the chamber.

Silence fell between them and all that she could hear over the thumping of her own pulse in her ears was the breathing of Azog who had remained stoically by her side.

Gandalf looked almost nervous as his eyes darted between her and Azog until his eyes settled on her.

“I have a story to tell you Gandalf,”

---To Be Continued---

Chapter Text

Bilbo new that her relationship with her husband was not exactly…conventional. There was genuine feeling there. She cared for the Orc (and his band) and she was loyal to him, just as she believed he cared for her in his own way and was loyal to her.

It was hard to explain to someone who had not been there through it all just how things had come about the way they had. Just how she had come to be not only the queen of the Goblins but the wife of one of the most feared individuals in Middle Earth. But she tried her best to tell Gandalf how things had happened.

The truth was, that at the end of the day it had all boiled down to necessity and survival.

On both their parts.

Azog had cared to have no master and so he had broken from the one who had created him, who had forged him anew from the being he had once been. In doing so he took some with him but not many. Over the years he was joined by others who drew away from their master.

They could not find peace though. After all. They were Orcs, feared and hated by all.

So they lived as they could until they finally settled in Moria, hoping the Darkness present there would ward off the other.

But soon the Orcs who had drifted from the Dark began to drift back again.

“We needed to show a united front,” Bilbo gulped, “To boost moral if you will,”

Gandalf was looking terribly pale. She hoped he wasn’t going to do anything silly like fall over, she was very nearly finished with her explanation.

“My Goblins are a breed of Orc,” she added as a side note, “Did you know that?”

There was no response from the wizard.

This little bit of knowledge had terrified her initially. Her books of history and even children’s tales were brimming with Goblins coming across you in the mountains and eating you. Because of this it had taken her some time to get used to the idea that she was the ruler of such creatures. And then she had joined with Azog and she her history had experienced a brushing up through her husband.

Being a queen of Goblins was one thing, and she had gotten used to it. But to find that she was fundamentally a queen of Orcs had sent her into a panic and looking back she was ashamed of her reaction.

But just like with all things that she had faced she had got on with things and decided that it didn’t matter if they were Goblins or Orcs she was responsible for them and she would do her best by them.

“Yes, they are,” she continued as if the  wizard had made a reply, “Somehow or another they too broke away – in a fashion – and became their own little kingdom,” she trailed off thoughtfully but quickly got back on track when her stomach rumbled.

“It is hard to be a race that all others revile, Gandalf,” she whispered, beginning to wring her hands in agitation.

Gandalf still looked like the draught would knock him over any minute. A wilfully silent Gandalf was a very nerve disconcerting sight.

“One of the first,” Gandalf spoke so softly, more to himself than to them, that Bilbo had to hold her breath to hear him.

“One of the first to be…” he trailed of, his eyes wide and fixed intently on Azog, pale with shock.

Bilbo turned and looked up at her husband. He was still beside her, as tall and steady as ever but his stillness was unnerving as he kept his gaze forward.

Bilbo had sometimes wondered what her husband had looked like before he had been tortured and changed into his current state. She was not blind to his tall muscled figure and she could admit that he was magnificent to look upon...in a monstrous way. But what he would have looked like as he was born to be…He would have been a beautiful warrior she had no doubt…a fair one.

She cleared her throat.

Whatever her husband had once been she lived under no illusions of what he was now and that was the end of it.  

He was what eons of time, wars and struggles had made him.

She had given Gandalf the information he needed of the past and now it was time to deal with the present and hopefully the future.

“I know why you fear the dragon. He is dangerous and an unknown, with no ties to anyone. There would be nothing to worry over-“ she raised a hand, halting anything Gandalf was about to say. The wizard looked put out – not used to being silenced in such a way – but his mouth closed with an audible clank of teeth, she was glad he wasn’t standing quiet and shocked anymore “but an old enemy is rising and you cannot risk the dragon siding with that one,”

Gandalf’s eyes opened even wider at this.

“There have been grumblings for some time now, but it was not until recently,” meaning yesterday, “that we know what we faced,”

She tried to organise her rushing thoughts and failed.

She glanced to her husband, looking up at him and silently begging him to pick up where she left off. She knew Gandalf understood Black Speech so there was no reason why Azog could not complete the explanation.

Bilbo didn’t feel like she was qualified to talk about these things. All she knew was what Azog had told her and then the stories that were told to frighten children around campfires. She had no first-hand knowledge. What if she missed something vital out of the telling?

Azog looked down on her. If her husband was someone else and prone to such actions she would have sworn she heard him give a sigh of exasperation as he looked to the wizard and took up the tale.

Chapter Text

The talk was over and the revelations finished (for the time being) and Gandalf in his wisdom, had announced that yes, something must be done about the situation.

She had watched with no little amusement as Gandalf – without so much as a ‘by your leave’ – strode to the entrance of the cavern and called for Thorin to enter once again.

Bilbo had no doubt that if she had not dismissed all of her Guards there would be more than one twitchy spear hand ready to let fly towards the Wizard. But as it stood the only thing he had to worry about was not tripping over his own feet in his haste to bring the Dwarf back into the room.

The Wizard was a fool if he thought Thorin would be stepping anywhere near the entrance of the cave without her say so.

She only just managed to stifle a giggle of delight at Gandalf’s look of ire as he turned to look at her.

“My dear Bilbo, please explain to your –“ he paused, seeming to be struggling for the right word.

She quirked an eyebrow at him, letting him know he had best chose his words carefully.

“Guards-“ he finally settled for, “that Master Oakenshield can enter the …uh…” he cast an eye about the cave, “room,”

There was a moment of silence that was surprisingly broken by her husband.

“Allow him entrance!” he shouted, the snarl echoing about the cavern. The last ghostly words hadn’t even faded yet before Thorin was escorted into the cave by several members of her guard. Two at each of his arms and one ready to plant a spear into the nearest bit of him if he attempted anything.

The ‘anything’ was what worried her. Her ‘anything’ and her guards ‘anything’ were two different things. The only thing Thorin was safe doing until the guards left was breathing. And even then it wasn’t a sure thing.

“Leave him!” her husband’s growl had her Goblins tensing but looking to her for confirmation, twitching uncomfortably from one foot to the other but holding their ground. She nodded her head and they released Thorin and returned to their posts outside – with a little more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary.

Bilbo watched as Gandalf took hold of one of Thorin’s freshly freed elbows and led him to what she could only assume he thought was a more ‘private’ spot, when in fact it was only several yards away from her. It was a cave with one piece of furniture – well, two now counting the table. Privacy wasn’t exactly something it was formed to accommodate.

As she watched Gandalf begin to explain to Thorin the turn in events with much gesticulating on both sides she thought over their conversation.

The wizard had revealed some information of his own. In the midst of the current fuss Bilbo was ashamed to admit that she had forgotten all about the council meeting Lord Elrond had alluded to. And then there had been the wizard with the stick insect in his mouth (Bilbo’s throat tickled and flexed in revulsion just at the memory of the insect sitting on the man’s tongue) and his private word with Gandalf.

More pieces had come together and Azog had told Gandalf that his friend was very fortunate to be alive after venturing to the ancient fortress. The ruins were not as empty as they appeared to be… Information gained from her ‘present’ apparently.

Gandalf was less than happy about the council’s reaction to his news from Radagast and Bilbo had had a hard time controlling her eyebrows when he suggested Azog accompanying him to Rivendell as some kind of proof.

Azog had chuckled dryly in amusement and Bilbo only just stopped herself from doing the same thing. The very idea was ludicrous.

All treaties were brokered through her and made it perfectly clear that under no circumstances or under any pretence were Orcs to cross the borders agreed upon. If they did the penalty would be dealt swiftly and without question – something the traitor had taken full advantage of.

With Gandalf by his side or not an arrow would be through Azog’s eye before she could say ‘blame the wizard’.

No. Azog accompanying Gandalf to parlay with the Council was not an option.

“Are you still so sure of your decision, wife?” Azog’s voice brought her from her thoughts and after casting a quick look towards the still arguing Gandalf and Thorin she looked to her husband who was standing in front of her.

Bilbo allowed herself a few moments pause to appreciate the figure her husband made standing in the flickering flames from the torches.

While terrifying there was a definitely a certain beauty to his form.

He was glaring at the arguing men, his back straight and arms folded across his chest.

The disagreement was becoming all the louder and the gesticulating more violent. In fact she wouldn’t be at all surprised if Thorin went for Gandalf and got him firmly by the throat. But then she doubted Gandalf would ever shuffle from existence by such a mediocre way as strangulation. No. dragon fire was more his way to go, she thought acidly.

“I am beginning to question it,” she grumbled in reply, slouching to the side, leaning her elbow on the armrest of her chair and propping her chin in her hand.

She sighed heavily, something she would usually not even consider doing in the presence of others but she didn’t worry about her ‘guests’ hearing her at the moment. They were too busy trying to argue. Quietly. They were failing miserably.  

Thorin was not happy. In fact he looked more than ready to begin smoking in his boots with his fury.

Now he was growling in Khuzdul, shooting out the harsh words like he was hoping they themselves would cause injury.

“Enough!” roared Gandalf so loudly and suddenly it made her jump in her seat.

The torches flared and fluttered from the power radiating from the angry Wizard until they settled down once again to a steady burn.

The dispute was rapidly brought to a close after that and the two men approached her. Thorin somewhat subdued but still scowling as he stomped over in his horrid boots.

How on earth did the Company manage in them? Against all Hobbit sense she had tried them once in the early days of her reign – the mountain had been so wretchedly cold – and she had warn then for a day before tearing the horrible things from her feet. Hobbit feet were not meant for footwear and who was she to argue with that well established fact? Besides, she had gotten used to the chilly and sometimes damp stone beneath her feet soon enough.

She sat straight tin her chair and fixed a look of inquiry upon her face.

“I hope your discussion was enlightening…” she addressed them both.

Thorin continued to scowl and Gandalf cleared his throat while casting an annoyed glance as the displaced monarch and then looked to her and smiled.

“Perhaps some time to think over this latest development would be best, my dear,” Gandalf told her.

She nodded her head.

Thorin did look a little shocked and sometime might be the best way to avoid any further…disagreements.

“Perhaps over a meal,” the Wizard quirked an eyebrow at her, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

Azog growled at her side. Whither the noise was directed at Thorin or Gandalf she had no idea but she hoped he would keep his show of displeasure to the vocal variety. At least until they had come to some sort of agreement with Thorin.

“Very well Gandalf, I believe it is well past time for eating anyway,”

She stood from her chair.

“The Company should be outside,”

This was going to be interesting.

Chapter Text

Bilbo looked upon them all with a studious eye as they were directed into the cavern.

They all looked fine. A little put out and glaring at her, some of them looking at her as if she was the dirt under their boots, but other than that they had all been fed the night before, were about to be fed again and were in one piece.

They were prodded by the guards towards the table at her instruction as more Goblins bearing stools and more torches came ambling in behind them. She felt a twinge of guilt. It was obvious that they had been waiting outside the door while she was speaking with Gandalf.

Oh well, there had been no way around it, but she felt bad for holding them back from their regular duties.

Each Dwarf had a guard at their shoulders, holding them firmly and keeping them still while the others placed the stools by the table. This done the guards forcefully seated their charges. One by one she heard elbows hit the table and groans of annoyance as it was made clear that standing would not be tolerated.

She winced at the rough treatment and wondered what the guards had been putting up with from the obviously annoyed Company of Dwarves. She caught Azog giving them a nod of approval and sighed. Honestly. Why did she even try?

“A chair for the wizard,” she instructed a passing Goblin who bowed low in acknowledgment before scurrying off to fulfil her order, in doing so they nearly collided with three others who were carrying in a heavy wooden chair for her husband to use. It was placed at what passed as the ‘top’ of the table while the chair she had been using during the sad excuse for an audience was lifted from the steps and placed beside Azog’s.

It wasn’t how things were meant to be and it was frightfully bad table manners. She knew as the host and hostess – well, sort of -  one of them should have been at each end of the table but Azog had been very…understanding with everything (given the circumstances) and she had no desire to test his patience by suggesting it when she already knew what his answer would be.

Things were prepared quickly and as efficiently as they ever were by her Goblins. She felt her chest swell in pride as she watched them work.

The chair was brought for Gandalf and both he and Thorin were ushered to the table and into their spaces.

The food was next to arrive.

A huge cauldron of steaming soup that smelled divine and she hoped had no nasty surprises in it – she had been instructing the cooks for years but the occasional slip did happen.

Platters of roasted root vegetables came close on the heels of the soup along with piping hot and still sizzling meat.

Finally polished wooden dishes were placed before each of the diners and Bilbo stifled a groan when she saw one of the Goblins spit happily on one of the plates, wipe it gleefully on his ‘clothing’ and place it in front of Thorin.

The Goblin toddled off looking very proud of himself and indeed it seemed that she was the only one who had noticed the little beasts actions, so perhaps he had every right to be a little swaggering.

Bilbo could feel her headache growing again and closed her eyes for a moment. Blessed darkness. The smouldering torches really did go for the eyes after a while.

She breathed steadily and opened her eyes again.

Thorin’s plate was sitting innocently in front of him.

Was it a sign of her own moral deterioration that she couldn’t even find it in herself to be angry with the mischievous creature?

Honestly, what was she going to do with them?

She moved to have someone replace the plate when Thorin looked to her with a look so venomous she felt the sting and held the hand that had been about to wave for a Goblin fixed in her lap.

Never mind.

She smiled at him and settled back in her chair. He only frowned all the more.

The Dwarves had settled down now and were casting looks at each other and their guards who stood as attention at their backs. Occasionally they glanced to her before looking away in embarrassment if she caught them.

She cleared her throat, giving them permission to look at her.

She lifted a hand and gestured to the steaming food spread put before them.

“Enjoy,”

No one moved. They sat and they stared.

They looked at the food. They looked at each other. They looked at her. They looked at Thorin.

And no one touched the food.

Bilbo sighed heavily and reached for the vegetables only to have Azog takeover for her and fill her plate with the wonderfully smelling potatoes and parsnips.

Finally Gandalf broke the staring contest and reached for the plate that Azog had replaced in the centre of the table.

She sighed in relief and dug into her food.

 ---To Be Continued---

Chapter Text

Thankfully there were no surprises in the food and Bilbo ate heartily of the vegetables while semi-full-bellies seemed to help the Company relax and little conversation started along the table.

Thorin she noticed was sitting with his arms folded across his chest, ignoring the food in front of him. She cast a sad look at his empty plate.

Shame. The cocky Goblin's hard work had gone to waste there it would seem.

Balin appeared to be hissing in his leader's ear from his place at his side. Trying to convince him to eat perhaps?

"I eat nothing at the same table as my grandfather's slayer!" Thorin finally snarled, proving her guess correct and jerking away from Balin so hard he knocked into Fili at his other side.

The hushed conversations stopped and everyone looked to her and then to Azog at her side, eyes wide with panic.

She calmly continued eating while Azog only grunted at her side and did the same.

Eventually, seeing no punishment would be landing on their heads with the suddenness of a rockslide thanks to their leader's loose tongue they returned to their food and subdued talk.

"The old fool was sick with the gold madness, even in battle his eyes burned with it," Azog snarled at her, almost making her jump at his sudden words.

She turned to him just as he was using his two pronged arm as a fork and reaching for his ale with the other hand.

She shook her head in exasperation. She had tried time and again to stop him from doing that. Her nose crinkled in disgust at the thought of what he did with his weaponised arm. But it was no good. All she could hope was that he had given it at least a rudimentary wash before deciding to use it as a piece of cutlery.

She doubted it.

Bilbo observed her husband through narrowed eyes. If she didn't know any better for would think he was trying to explain himself to her. Something that he rarely did. He acted as he saw fit and saw no need to explain his actions to anyone. After all, he had lived long enough to have no need to explain himself to those who must be children in his eyes.

"Gold madness?" she hissed back at him in some confusion.

"Dw-" began Gandalf, only to be silenced by an animal like hiss from her husband. Gandalf immediately fell quiet and resumed eating without further comment.

Bilbo saw with some amusement that the Company were only eating what the wizard ate. Gandalf – the old reprobate – was amusing himself by leaving the meat till last and making the decidedly carnivorous Dwarves eat their greens if they wanted anything to eat at the moment.

Bilbo wondered who would be the first to break and go for the meat – risk of poison or no.

She considered having some meat herself but decided to let Gandalf have his fun. He would get bored of the stewed and roasted root vegetables soon enough.

Obviously they didn't trust Azog to be not immune to whatever they thought they were at risk of or they wouldn't have been holding back. Her husband had nearly demolished a quarter of the massive amount of meat that had sat on the platter.

Azog was still glaring in annoyance at Gandalf and she touched his arm gently to bring his attention back to her.

The paleness of his skin never failed to fascinate her and the darkness of her gloves made his skin nearly glow in contrast.

His eyes went to her hand and then to her face. He took a long gulp of his ale before speaking.

"Dwarves," he very nearly spat the word and Bilbo rolled her eyes, sitting back in her chair and sipping at her wine. She didn't like or approve of drinking so early in the day but it was weak wine and cleaner than any water to be found in the mountain until the rain from the night before and been filtered anyway.

"Lust for treasure. Gold, jewels…some lines feel the sickness more than others," he looked at Thorin as he spoke of blood lines and her eyes glanced to the Dwarf also. He was glaring at them while the others chewed happily about him on pieces of…huh, looked like Gandalf had gone for some meat or desperation had finally driven a member of the Company to rash action and the others had decided to join him.

So the royal line was more susceptible to this sickness then?

"Dragons are drawn to vast stores of gold, that is why Smaug fell upon Erebor as he did. The fool king brought the dragon to his own door,"

Bilbo wondered why she had never heard of this Gold Sickness, but then Dwarves were a very secretive bunch – really, it was bordering on paranoia.

"But, they are miners," she thought aloud, forcing her tongue to twist around words she had very rarely had to use since learning Black Speech, "Isn't a desire for treasure only natural to fuel their work?"

"Not to the exclusion of all else," he grumbled at her and concentrated wholly on his food once again.

The exclusion of all else?

Would Thorin fall into this sickness? What about the rest of the Company? Was she doing the right thing in encouraging and helping them to retake the mountain?

Oh, how she missed the simple life she had lived when she was just Mistress of Bag End. The most stressful thing in her life then had been if she would win the prize for best tomatoes or not.

As it stood though, whither it was right or wrong to help them get the mountain or not, the Dragon still needed to be dealt with. They were going to Erebor for that reason if nothing else.

A figure coming into the room and approaching her Captain caught her attention and she watched as the guard whispered into his ear and left the room as quietly as he had entered it.

She met her Captain's eyes as he looked to her and frowned in question.

What else could possibly go wrong? She still had to speak to the Company as a whole and had hoped that full bellies would make them more amiable to be explanation.

Her Captain approached, bowed at the waist and leaned into her ear – earning him a snarl and a rumble from Azog who tore a chunk of meat from the bone skewered on his metal limb viciously.

She kicked him under the table and the wretched man didn't even blink at the abuse.

Bilbo had no doubt she had probably just hurt herself more than she did him as pain bloomed through her bare foot.

"The Watch has news to report, Majesty," the Captain whispered into her ear.

She nodded and glanced as her still mostly full plate.

She pushed it away.

She wasn't all that hungry anyway at the moment, all of her appetite fleeing at the mention of mad Dwarves and gold hoarding dragons.

"I am sorry for abandoning you in this way," she told the table as she stood, the chair scraping along the floor, "but there are matters requiring my attention. Please finish you meal," she nodded to them and made for the door, Azog at her side, the cool air of the outer passages hitting her skin and causing goose bumps to rise on the few places where flesh showed.

"Have them shown back to their quarters once they have finished eating," she instructed her Captain, "Only once they are finished, mind," she specified.

"Yes, Majesty,"

"Very good,"

She was shepherded through the passages to the place where the Watch party was waiting.

Bilbo saw them long before they saw her and was glad to see that they were behaving themselves. She was proud of the Goblins who showed enough discipline to be in her Guard and the Watch. They took their duties seriously. She knew if the need arose all of her Goblins would show the same single-mindedness in battle but not many of them had the strength of will to do so on a daily basis.

"Attention!" shouted her Captain as they approached and all backs straightened in record time as she came to a stop before them.

None of them seemed to be injured, which was good, but didn't necessarily mean they hadn't been involved in a skirmish.

Bilbo smiled reassuring at the head of this particular band of Watchmen as he was told to step forward. He bowed awkwardly and returned to his straight position, waiting to be told to speak.

Her husband tended to frighten her Goblins and the watchmen were no different. She could tell they were trying not to, but their eyes kept straying to his tall form at her side.

She looked up to him and rolled her eyes. He was glowering at the Watch, his arms crossed over his chest.

"You have something to tell me?" she smiled and the Goblin nodded enthusiastically.

"Orc pack Majesty. They are searching the mountain,"

-To Be Continued-

Chapter Text

Bilbo sat and thought. That was all she seemed to be doing lately. A lot of thinking and very little doing, but she knew she needed to get her head around just what she had found herself in the middle of before taking any further action. Besides, Azog was off ‘doing’ enough for the both of them.

He had fetched his men and the wargs within minutes of the Watch completing their report. She had heard him bellowing all the way through the caverns as he stalked away for the guard to be doubled. She couldn’t be sure but she thought she had heard something about heads rolling if any of the guard were stupid enough to be spotted and by extension give away any of the entrances.

She doubted he would have the chance to send the spotted guards head rolling anywhere if it came to it. The enemy scouts would no doubt take care of it for him.

He was scouting the scouts – she giggled hysterically at the thought - and she knew her husband was good enough not to be seen unless he wanted to be. She just hoped that the enemy were not as skilled as he was.

She curled into her chair and looked into the fire.

It was always cold in the mountains but a chill ran through her that had nothing to do with the damp and the cold.

She pulled the heavy shawl she had dug from beneath a pile of mending tighter about her shoulders. She had planned to fetch wool back from the Shire this visit, to fix the many holes and snags that decorated It, but that plan had not come to pass thanks to her quick departure.

Still, holes or not, it was more comforting than anything else she had to hand.

Orcs – the enemy – were searching the Mountains…

She tried to think through everything she had learned over the past few days and weeks and found herself wishing she had paid more attention and asked more question during her years around Orcs and Goblins.

She felt so…so…Ugh.

She slid from her chair and onto the animal pelt before the fire.

The heat wafted across her skin, making her face feel tight and uncomfortable until she found a spot on the floor that she was content with.

The enemy was searching. But who for? For Gandalf? No, surely not. The Wizard was always sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong and if anyone had wanted him dead she had no doubts there had been plenty of opportunities through the years for someone to put an arrow through him – and depending on the circumstances she may well have found herself sympathising with the archer as nothing was more trying to the temper than Gandalf’s meddling (and Dwarves she had discovered).

Thorin then.

The Dwarves were heading to Erebor and in Erebor was a Dragon…a Dragon.

Bilbo lost herself to the flickering flames as she tried to remember everything she knew about Dragon…Drakes…Worms…or was it Wyrms?

Stories of such creatures had fascinated her as a child and now she tried to draw up all the tales and myths she had read by candle light in her bedroom at Bag End.

They had a dark beginning, she could remember that much. But that did not mean that they were evil…did it?

No. She refused to believe that. Her Goblins had not had the most promising beginning and yet they were not bad. More mischievous and a bit cloudy as to what was acceptable than anything else…but not evil.

Obviously the traitor Azog had gifted her with – she swallowed convulsively as the memory for the mangled flesh dropping out of the sack and landing at her feet – had returned to his Master and reported the Dwarves and the direction they were travelling in. It would not have taken much to jump to the conclusion that they were heading to the Lonely Mountain.

Were the scouts looking for the Dwarves to stop them?

She was certain that the Dragon was alive - surely the smell of a rotting Dragon would be strong enough to announce his death after over fifty year. Were they hoping to convince Smaug to join with them now that the Darkness was on the move and ready for such a thing? If so they would not want to risk a band of Dwarves slaying the beast would they?

Oh it was all so confusing.

Bilbo could understand Thorin’s…animosity? Anger? Bitterness? She really could. Just like she could understand Azog’s hatred for the Dwarves – and, it had to be admitted, most of the other races. But just because she understood it that didn’t mean she had to like it or put up with it. There were larger issues at stake and while her husband seemed to have grudgingly accepted the idea of joining forces Thorin was definitely nowhere near to accepting the situation – grudgingly or not…

Once again her mind drifted fondly to her tomatoes and the Hobbiton fayre. She could not believe that once she had thought the family politics of the Shire were difficult to survive unscathed. It was child’s play she now realised, compared to her current problem.

Dwarves and Orcs…they would be the end of her, she was sure of it.

Bilbo woke with a start when she felt herself being shifted but still couldn't muster the energy to even lift her head.

Her neck hurt and something had been digging into her back.

As her balance was shifted she groggily realised she must have dropped off against the seat at her back. Sleepily she realised she could have fallen forward and into the fire but she couldn’t muster the energy to worry about that.

Large hands laid her on the floor – oh dear, she sighed as her cheek met the fur, floor again – and then she felt her husband’s huge body press her to his chest.

This was nice.

She snuggled into his warmth, the heat of the fire in front of her and the heat of him at her back most pleasant, and felt herself begin to drift again.

There was something she was supposed to be worrying about.

She drifted…

Rattling in the halls and bellowing woke her from her sleep, her heart thumped violently in her chest at the panic of being woken so suddenly from her rest as words echoed about her room.

“The Dwarves have escaped!”

---To Be Continued---

Chapter Text

Bilbo paced furiously from one side of the platform to the other. Over and over again in the shadow of the giant Goblin who was nursing his sore head by pressing a mixture of herbs to the bump and taking gulps of wine – watered down (she had made sure of that – she had enough on her plate without having her 'advisor' three sheets to the wind).

The Dwarves had escaped and in the process given her advisor a split head – thank full, said head was still attached to his body – and sent more than one of her Goblins falling from the bridges and walkways throughout the caverns. They were still being fished back up by some of the workers who had been brought from the mining work deeper in the range.

She was going to kill them if they survived the scouting parties currently swarming over the range in search of them. The fools. And if any of her Goblins were injured by retrieving them she would find some way to bring them all back and kill them again. Maybe she would make a deal with the so-called necromancer to do so – and if it would spite Gandalf in the process, well that was just a happy coincidence.

She turned at the edge of the platform and began in the other direction.

Bilbo didn't really know who she was angrier with. Herself for not thinking that of course the Dwarves could find their way out of the room they had been placed in - they were Dwarves, stone ran through their veins and their heads were made of rock, of course they could get out – or the Dwarves for legging it in the first place.

She hadn't done anything to them to warrant them running as soon as they could. She had made sure they were fed and had been kept warm. She had even stopped Thorin from being squished by Azog the day before. Didn't that count for anything?

And Gandalf!

"Ugh," she grunted angrily, reaching another edge and turning, her gown billowing about her and nearly tangling in her legs with the speed she turned.

She regained her balance and continued with the pacing, running a hand over the thick fabric of the gown as she straightened it about her and tugged it free of her legs.

Gandalf had just gone along with it! She would burn his staff this time, never mind just having it taken away. She would see it as a smouldering pile of ash before the night was out if she saw him again.

Would a staff send of sparks if it was burned? Well, she would soon be finding out.

Or maybe she would have one of her Goblins hide it in one of the countless crevices throughout the mountains and watch as the wizard tried to find it. Oh, she would do something, she would!

How dare they?

She had been woken by a racket so loud in the passages that it echoed about her room. Azog had grumbled and held her all the tighter – they had once again been on the floor in front of the fire – and refused to release her. She knew he was awake. A pin dropping could wake her husband. So she couldn't understand why he was being so obstinate about opening his eyes and releasing her.

And then her Captain of the Guard had come racing into the room, apologising all the while for disturbing them and rattling out an explanation.

The Dwarves had vanished.

She had tensed at the words and battered ineffectively at her husband's chest demanding to be released.

Bilbo knew why he wasn't letting her go. He couldn't care less about the Dwarves. In fact she had no doubt that he was hoping the scouting parties the watch had spotted the night before would pick them off one at a time.

Finally escaping her husband's arms she had intrusted her Captain to get together a hunting party – made up of the best fighters (she wasn't taking any risks of them being picked off by the packs searching for the Dwarves) – and bring them back if they could. If not, let the fools continue to Erebor and they would deal with the bigger problems on their own.

Honestly these Dwarves were so selfish.

Realising that she would not be changing her mind anytime soon Azog had gruffly risen from the furs and trudged from the room, mumbling about leading the party.

She wondered now, as she paced, if Thorin would ever make it back alive or die from an 'accident'. She wouldn't be surprised, and in her less than charitable mood at the moment she wouldn't even care.

The fool.

She turned again.

She had donned a dress of dull brown fabric – thick and warm – and her usual gloves, and she found that her pacing was making her heat up a lot quicker than was usual. She slowed down until she came to stop at the mouth of the walkway.

She peered into the darkness.

Nothing. She doubted even the keen eyes of her Goblins could pick up on anything in the gloom.

She raised her right hand to her lips, ready to chew on her nails in her nervousness but her mouth was only met with thick wool of her gloves. She huffed and folded her arms across her stomach.

Her foot began to move, tapping restlessly on the cold wood.

In a sudden panic she glanced down and leapt back, remembering the mangled Orc that had been her gift.

She sighed in relief. Glad to see that her Goblins – aware of her need for cleanliness – had either scrubbed the blood from the planks or replaced them entirely. There was only two burning torches on the platform – the skeletons were still tied to them and were smiling ghoulishly at her from the bases, eternity staring out at her from the empty eye sockets - and she couldn't quite make out if the plank was new or not. It was no longer blood stained though and that was all she was concerned with.

Unsettled now she turned on her heels and walked over to her 'throne'. She slumped onto the seat and began to tap at the armrest, a wicked smile came slowly to her lips despite the circumstances.

No doubt that Dwarves – curse them! – had thought to use the light outside to escape by. After all it was well known that Goblins did not take well to natural light. They didn't know that she had been inadvertently taking care of that since coming into her place as queen. The sunlight would be no problem for them – even more so as it was fading light. They would bring the Dwarves back to her - if they did not get themselves killed before being found that is.

The clearing of a throat had her glancing to the side to meet eyes with the giant Goblin nursing his head.

"I am sorry, Majesty," he mumbled, attempting a wobbly bow but standing up straight after hardly tilting his head and staggering slightly on his legs.

She sighed and smiled tiredly at the creature, wincing a little when he pulled the rag from his injury and she spotted the still bloody cut and nasty swelling.

"It is my fault, my friend,"

The Goblin began to deny her words.

"You are the soul of hospitality," he gushed.

She shook her head but smiled fondly at the giant Goblin as he proceeded to place all blame for all things onto the shoulders of the company. He could kill her by standing on her if the notion ever took him but she knew he would never dream of such an action. Being a leader was not something the Goblin aspired to, despite his ancestors having been in the position she was in currently. He was happy to assist, but not for him the weight of office.

The echoing of shouts and scream from the darkness stopped any words that may have been spoken and she stared into the blackness, waiting for figures to come out of it.

Soon enough she was able to watch the progress of a party across the bridge and onto the platform. The party came to a stop before her. Her Goblins were mixed in with the Dwarves and the Wizard while the Orcs Azog had brought with him had filled the entrance to the bridge – cutting of any escape.

She could not make out any injuries in the light but they all seemed to be standing. Surely that was a good thing.

Her Captain stopped before her and dropped to his knee, bowing his head for a moment before standing again.

"Are there any injures, Captain?" she asked, surprised at the steadiness of her voice.

Just breathe Bilbo. Just breathe. Don't do anything rash now.

"Some burns my lady,"

Burns?

"And one of the Dwarves was struck by a black blade,"

Oh no.

There was a shifting in the group and she glanced up, trying to guess who had been injured. She couldn't tell. Too many bodies were pressed together and she couldn't tell if someone was being supported by the others.

"Have they been treated?"

"They refuse aid, Majesty,"

Oh, they do, do they.

There was no elf healer to work their magic on the wicked poison that would now be flowing through the victim's body from the injury. The foul drink the Orcs carried was not something she would willing drink herself or press on another. But right now it was the only way to deal with such an injury. If left any long it would fester and the injured person would be screaming in agony before two days were out.

Well, that was not going to happen to anyone in this bunch.

"Gandalf!" she snarled, having now reached the end of her patience with the Dwarves.

She scanned the taller figures and found Gandalf with Azog at his back. The Wizard looked almost ashamed but she decided the light was making him appear so. She doubted the wizard had ever been ashamed of himself in his life.

Once again he had been stripped of his staff and the Dwarves their weapons – she wondered just how they had found them before they ran.

"You will explain some things to Master Balin –" Thorin's advisor seemed to be the most sensible of the group after all – "and then I will speak to the company as a whole. Hopefully their leader's selfishness does not afflict them all,"

She knew she was sailing very close to the line but she was done with them. Her people had been endangered in fetching them back and protecting them.

She gestured to some of the guards who barrelled though the group and separated the councillor from the company - Dwalin made quite the fuss but she hardened her heart against their cries – and one of the Orcs escorted Gandalf in the same direction. They would be taken somewhere private to speak.

"As for the injured…" she trailed of, she would not have one of them die from shear stubbornness, lack of trust and downright stupidity, "Force the mixture down his throat if you have to," she snarled.

-To Be Continued-

Chapter Text

Bilbo turned her back on the company as their injured member was separated from them and her orders were carried out. The cries of distress and fear flooded the cavern and echoed around her as they were all forced to remain still.

All she knew was that right now she felt angrier than she had ever felt in her life. Keeping that anger to the front of her mind helped to dull the pain that came to her chest at the cries.

"Leave him!"

"Kili! Let him go!"

"No don't!"

"Kili!"

At least it did for a moment or so.

Bilbo's blood turned cold at the shouts. So, it was the young dark haired archer who had been in the wrong place when a black blade descended?

She wanted to turn. Wanted to comfort the Dwarves she had grown to like during her journey with them. Wanted to see for herself that there were no other injuries, but she couldn't, she dared not in case they saw the hurt and indecision in her eyes. Instead she spent all of her energy in keeping her back straight as she stared at her throne as though it held all of the answers.

The Giant Goblin stood to the side of her throne, dwarfing what was a large chair to her with his bulk. He wrung his hands in agitation, stopping every now and then to rub at his hurt head and glare at the Dwarves behind her in annoyance.

He was a loyal friend – for all his monstrous appearance – and Bilbo knew that if any of the Dwarves at her back broke free from her guards and made for her it would be the last thing they ever did. After all, all he had to do was fall on an opponent and his growth covered belly would be the last thing they saw in this life.

The thought of Thorin Oakenshield having such an ignoble death was amusing if nothing else.

Cries from the Company dragged her from thoughts of Thorin's death by squashing and she tensed at the sounds of the struggling.

Was she doing the right thing?

She had lost count of the number of times she had asked herself that question. But it didn't seem to matter how many times she asked it, she always came up with the same answer.

She didn't know anymore.

It had been a pleasant enough diversion to imagine Dwarf heads placed upon spears while her anger bubbled but now that they were once again within reach she just felt oddly empty.

Maybe it would have been best if the Dwarves had never been caught. It was obvious they didn't want to be here and Thorin had never taken to her, so what was the use of having them back in her mountains and putting her people in danger?

What if they escaped again? Could she let them go knowing that they were being hunted?

She felt the presence of another at her side and looked up at her husband. She narrowed her eyes and studied him carefully from head to foot, up and down, again and again.

He seemed to be alright. No blood, all limbs accounted for…well, when she said 'all'…

"You are well, husband?" she asked, only just making her words heard over the racket of the Company.

Honestly, everywhere they went they had to make a fuss.

There was a shriek from a Goblin and a cry from a Dwarf behind her but she forced her eyes to remain fixed on her husband's face.

He nodded curtly in reply.

Bilbo gulped, her mouth suddenly dry. She didn't know how to ask the next question. She didn't know if she even should ask the next question.

Thankfully she didn't have to.

"Bolg led the hunt,"

Oh.

Should she offer some sort of comfort? Bolg was his own flesh and blood after all.

One look at her husband's hard face told her that comfort would not be gratefully received at the moment. She was glad. She would probably make a mess of any attempt anyway the way things were going.

"I hope they were led a good chase…"

Azog chuckled darkly at this, the sound was drowned out momentarily by an angry growl from one of the few Orcs behind them and the muffled cry of a Dwarf.

Azog's sharp gaze flicked from her and he smiled in satisfaction at whatever met his eyes.

What a fuss they were making over a little medicine.

He looked back to her, his eyes now daring her to turn and look.

She quirked a brow and ignored the dare.

Azog simply shrugged and picked up the conversation where they had left off.

"They were. Right off the cliff,"

She frowned at this, silently asking for an explanation.

"The fools –" he jerked his head slightly to indicate the company, a sneer twisting his pale lips and making some of the scars littering his face gape, "-were trapped in the trees on the cliff side, the whole cliff was ablaze when we arrived,"

On fire? No doubt the wizard had something to do with that.

She was impressed with the Dwarves. They had made it quite a distance. Shame they obviously went the wrong way once leaving the mountain exit to end up on the top of the cliff instead of the path down it.

Thoughts of the exit reminded her that she would have to send some workers through the passages to catalogue the damage the Company had wrought during their 'escape'. More than one Rope Bridge had been cut loose of its securing posts and some damage from minor fires had been reported to her also.

Just what she needed.

Then again if she was due for a fourteenth of the treasure of Erebor maybe she shouldn't begrudge the Dwarves the damage they had caused.

The shouting continued behind her along with the occasional sharp sound of flesh striking flesh.

Bilbo sighed and closed her eyes for a moment against the slight sting caused by the burning torches.

Hah. She doubted very much she would see a brass spoon for her troubles if Thorin had his way never mind a fair share of the treasure.

"What are you doing? Kili don't drink that!"

Ah, so it seemed the wrestling has finally paid off.

There was a very Goblin like hiss and a rough cheer from the Company.

Or not.

This was going to take a while.

---To Be Continued---

Chapter Text

Gandalf and Balin had returned some time ago from their chat and Bilbo had left them alone with the others for a while longer for the advisor to explain some things to the rest of the company.

The injured member had been given the antidote and the wound had been washed and bound carefully to protect it from further infection. It had taken some time but eventually Kili had been subdued long enough to have the vile liquid poured into him.

Bilbo had grown fond of all the Dwarves during their journey, but the younger members had wormed their way into her heart quicker than the others. It had pained her to know that one of them had been hurt – an injury that could have proved fatal. But that did not matter. He would live, and that was all that mattered now. He still looked paler than she was accustomed to seeing him and a cold sweat had broken out upon his face as the liquid did its work, but he would mend.

Azog had quickly finished telling her how he had come to find them perched on the top branches of the trees that grew near the edge of the cliff face - almost a mile from one of the larger exits to the mountains - the scouting parties circling below and the Wargs baying for their blood.

Apparently things had gotten more complicated when on top of the flames already licking at the ground, flaming cones had continued to rain down from the trees – curtesy of one Gandalf the Grey she had no doubt – keeping all the Wargs – Azog's party and well as the enemy's – in a whining panic as the flaming projectiles landed in matted fur and set tails alight. And then the trees had toppled.

Bilbo's head had began to hurt again at this point at the image of the Dwarves gripping onto the tree branches for dear life as they fell over. The headache had faded with a tingle of amusement though when her husband grumbled about having to fetch them all back onto solid ground once the scouts had been 'taken care of'. Bilbo prayed none of the dearly departed made it to her as a present. She had had enough of that for the time being.

All of the talking was now over.

Balin, Thorin and Gandalf had spoken to the Company – who had shot her looks that ranged from confusion to anger to curiosity – and she was glad that everyone was now informed of where they stood. Well…almost.

Now it was her turn to do the talking.

She tapped her fingers in nervous agitation on the armrest of her throne and surveyed them, trying to set her thoughts in order. Trying to think of what to say.

She was glad of the extra light provided by some more torches that had brought at her request. They had taken the dimness away and allowed her to see them all clearly. To see the looks on their faces.

Some looked back at her with the same open scrutiny she levelled at them.

Bofur with curiosity beneath his obvious discomfort at the situation. Not with distrust. Ori with fright. Dori with hate as he clutched at his brothers ready to push them to safety if the need arose. . Fili and Kili with pain and confusion. And the others, well, they looked at her like she was the dirt on their boots. Except for Balin who kept his expression carefully neutral and Bombur who was trying to calm an obviously troubled Bifur.

This was not the way she had wanted to do things. But they had left her no choice. Had they?

Was she doing the right thing to address them all? Surely she was, it would affect them all after all…

Oh, she didn't know anymore.

Deep inside she knew why she was so troubled. Despite what she told herself she did not want them to think badly of her. But they would hate her now no matter what her actions. And what did the hatred of thirteen Dwarves matter if it would rid the world of the Darkness.

She needed their cooperation, not their friendship.

It was true that she had signed that joke of a contract that they could try to hold over her head. But she wouldn't let them. The contract had been ridiculous when she signed it and it was still ridiculous several months later. And besides, the truth of the matter was that if they wanted to go down that path she was the one with a mountain full of Goblins at her beck and call. And she would be doing a whole load of becking and calling if it came down to it. There were bigger issues to deal with.

Besides she would still help them get their mountain back. Just not necessarily how they expected her to.

She cast her eyes about the group until she met Gandalf's. He was frowning slightly – no doubt annoyed about his staff being taken from him once again – but his eyes held a calculative glint to them that she didn't completely trust.

She stood from her throne and Azog shifted seamlessly with her, as steadfast as her own shadow.

The Dwarves shifted nervously and Thorin went so far as to bare his teeth at her in a silent snarl. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the childish display. If anyone could manage such a feat it was her husband. Thorin just looked…silly.

She clasped her hands over her stomach, threading her fingers together and felt the expansion of her stomach as she took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly.

She was either going to make the biggest mistake of her life or save them all…

"I have a proposition," she announced clearly.

Thankfully the only Goblins around apart from the guards and the Captain were those who headed what passed for the Goblin army. It had come as a surprise to her to know she had an army at her disposal all those years ago. Out of tradition they had been kept at the ready, but had never had to be used since the defeat at Greenfields. It looked like they would finally get a chance to see their hard work in practice if Thorin and the others agreed, and probably even if they didn't.

"We," she unclasped her hands and gestured to the left and the right, taking in the Azog (who was now flanked by his men) and the Goblins on the other side, "will assist you in disposing of the – how did the contract word it – ah yes – the 'pest' currently squatting within your mountain, and then, should the time come you will assist us in destroying…"

In destroying what exactly? A shadow? A myth? Whispers? A creature thought to have been rendered powerless eons ago?

She was saved from picking a term by Thorin scoffing.

"You expect me to make a deal with you," he laughed, looking to the others in the Company for support in his response.

He received it in sorts as some of them began to chuckle. Balin shook his head at the others and they settled down one again.

"Knowing I will be partnering with this filth,"

Bilbo was glad for the gloves she was wearing or her nails would have drawn her own blood she had made a fist so tight.

Although Thorin's eyes were on the giant Orc at her side as she knew he meant all within her realm, perhaps even her – and she had no doubt that he would turn as white as her husband if he knew just how many that spanned to between the Misty Mountains and Moria. The number of subjects in her realm was nothing to sneeze at and she had no doubt she could squash the Dwarven lords like bugs if she cared to. Which she didn't…but the temptation was growing stronger every moment she spent in Thorin's company.

"You will watch your tongue," she snapped irritably – not exactly the best way to deal with a fellow monarch she would admit but he was acting like a child by throwing his insults at her so.

"You forget who is in charge here, Thorin Oakenshield. You may be the be all and end all of your ramshackle group but here my word is law," she snarled.

Now who was throwing insults? Oh Bilbo, you have been in questionable company too often.

She heard metal slide against metal and saw Azog step forward. His dagger (larger than her letter opener she noted with a sting of annoyance) was drawn as he advanced upon the group.

They shifted, trying to draw away from the Orc but their movements were stopped by the guards circling them.

The panic on their faces was evident. As was the look of annoyance and blame they were casting Thorin's direction.

"Shall I make you a present of his beard, wife?" Azog grumbled at her, pausing for a moment to look at her.

Bilbo nearly smiled. Coming from Azog that was the equivalent of a bunch of flowers to sooth her feelings.

The Orc smiled at her – a disturbing sight if you were seeing it for the first time – and his eyes were alight with the nearest thing to mischief he ever came. He was enjoying sending the Dwarves into a panic. And if she was to be honest, she was enjoying watching it. It served them right for thinking they were so much better than she was.

She took her time to answer but eventually shook her head to refuse the offer.

Bilbo had no doubt that if she had said yes Azog would have presented her with more than a beard. He would have probably had an 'accidental' slip of the hand and a whole head would have been given to her – no doubt bearing a comical look of shock.

She had had enough of heads and dead bodies for the time being and a dead potential Dwarven king would be a political nightmare to deal with. Not to mention headache inducing.

Besides, just because Thorin was rude and arrogant didn't mean he should be killed.

Azog backed away after giving the Dwarves ample opportunity to admire his dagger. He tipped it to and fro, allowing the blade to catch the flickering light as he turned lazily away from them and returned to her side.

Silence as loud as any battle filled the air until she finally clapped her hands together just to fill the void.

"Well then, now that is out of the way, I have a story to tell you,"

And like all good stories it started a long time ago…

-To Be Continued-

Chapter Text

As she spoke, Bilbo couldn't help but think of Thorin's actions during their journey. His personality.

He had a tendency to balk at orders – even suggestions – that came from anyone but himself, or sometimes Balin. She could remember a handful of occasions during their weeks traveling when Gandalf and Thorin had exchanged sharp, and sometimes very loud words over seemingly unimportant things, such as when to stop and where to stop.

The only time the argument had led to what could have been a disaster was the night they had camped near the ruined cottage. That evening would never have happened if Thorin had listened to Gandalf and moved on. After all, who in their right mind camps near – very nearly on top of – a demolished home on the edge of very suspicious dark wood?

Bilbo had no doubt that if she had not been there to send her trolls home her boys would have been enjoying Dwarf jelly and pony pudding for their dinner that night. And she knew that if she had found out about any such…indiscretion on their part she would have forgiven them after giving them a little telling of. One farmer or thirteen Dwarves it was all the same to her at the end of the day… which, come to think of it, did worry her a bit.

Bilbo sighed. She was still working on the conscience thing. It was a constant uphill struggle.

Then there was the evening of the stone giants only a few nights ago. Another good day's walk would have seen them out of the Misty Mountains and despite being reminded of Gandalf's instructions by Balin, Thorin had been more than prepared to carry on without waiting for the Wizard.

No.

Thorin 'Stonehead' Oakenshield did not take instructions well. Not. At. All.

She had to change her approach.

Bilbo would not put it past him to refuse to help just out of spite. No matter that he needed her to go into the dragon infested mountain.

Thorin Oakenshield would rather break than bend. She could not intimidate him, especially with Azog at her side. Like he said, in his eyes, Azog was filth. An enemy to be destroyed, not to be allies with.

She would have to swallow her pride and be the one to beg.

Her people were numerous but not enough to face the enemy. Even if the spy had been exaggerating the numbers he had nothing to do with the rumors they had all heard. They would need as many allies as they could gain.

She had done it. Bilbo had told them all that she knew and everything that she had already told Gandalf – and hopefully what Gandalf had already told Balin. Everything that Azog had divulged to her the evening of her return they now knew and all the while she had felt as though she was betraying someone.

Azog? Her people? Herself? She was very much aware of the fact that she had taken a leap of faith. She was trusting the Company with a history they had little respect for and she balked at that. After all, if you did not learn from what had come before you what could you learn from?

Bilbo was tired. So tired. Days of travelling and now the added stress of the Dwarves seemed to have landed on her shoulders all at once and was pressing down so hard she felt as though she would be crushed beneath the weight.

She cleared her throat and forced herself to remain focused. She was a ruler. She did not have the time or the option to give into the weight right now…if ever.

Bilbo had thought that finding a way to tell them the state of things would be the most difficult things of all, but now that she had done it she found that she was wrong. Waiting for a response was far harder.

The Company were so silent it was beginning to make her more than a little nervous and she forced herself not to fidget. She had expected shouting, if not violence - a reaction in keeping with their behaviour up till that moment. Instead she got nothing.

She breathed. Perhaps they thought she had more to tell them.

But she didn't.

She had told them about the traitor they had all seen poured from the sack at her feet and the reason and what Azog had learned from him before he met his end.

Perhaps they didn't know what to do with the information. With the fact that not all Orcs were what they would see as evil…

Perhaps they didn't know exactly what she was asking…

Very well, time to spell it out for them and to beg.

"Your journey…Your quest," she met Thorin's burning eyes and allowed her own to drift from him to the rest of the company, "to reclaim your home is an honourable one," why was she always the one to fill the silence? "and I shall do everything in my power to help you fulfil it, just as I promised, but I…" she blinked, the sudden swell of desperation in her chest shocking her.

She had no wish to alienate them – despite his unpleasant qualities Thorin was royalty after all and had a rightful claim to the throne of Erebor.

Bilbo swallowed her pride – she had known she would have to do this. The safety of her people…of all Middle Earth was more important that her own feelings.

"I beg you to consider my offer," Bilbo stiffly ignored the soft growl and the shifting of Azog at her side. She doubted her husband had ever begged for anything in his life. Even while being tortured and twisted into his form she could only imagine him snarling with hate and promising retribution - something he may yet get against the one who wronged him so long ago.

"This is a power that will have no mercy on any of us…" especially people he viewed as deserters to his cause. Her Goblins and those who followed her husband would not be treated with mercy. She had no doubt that those who died quickly would be the lucky ones. Bilbo could not let that happen. Just as she could not allow Thorin's anger and bitterness to solidify and set him against her for the rest of their – hopefully long – lives.

"It needs to be stopped,"

Silence again.

She could hear a soft tap of water hitting the stone floor somewhere.

Drip, drip, drip.

Still no passionate outburst of denial from Thorin – she supposed that was a good thing. No mumbling. No shifting. No shouting. She wasn't even sure they were blinking.

Nope, this had not gone how she had thought it would at all.

Not one bit.

She couldn't even read their expressions. Oh how she wished she could read minds so that she could just reach into their heads and pluck out their thoughts like apples from a tree.

But she couldn't.

Bilbo sighed, for once not worrying about hiding the sound from the Dwarves. It had been a long day for them she knew – running away, nearly dying by fire, falling or warg, and then being brought back by Azog (and she was sure that he husband had been less than gentle with them once he had got hold of them) – and she had just given them a lot to think about.

"I do not expect an answer now. It is a lot to consider I know,"

Bilbo gestured for the guards to step forward – not that they had really stepped back from their charges.

"You will be escorted back to your room and food will be brought to you," she looked to Thorin's youngest heir who was looking better than he had when he was being restrained earlier, "Kili should be as good as new by the morning," she smiled at the dark haired archer who seemed to be struggling not to return the expression despite the worry and fright in his eyes, "Thankfully the poison was caught early,"

Bilbo didn't want to think about what would have happened if the Company had succeeded in their escape and the poison had spread through the young Dwarves body without being stopped. Would Gandalf have had the wisdom and skill to cure him?

She now looked to the guards.

"See our guests to their room,"

As the Company shuffled from her sight, each member with a guard or two at his back, she had a sudden thought.

Switching to Black Speech she called after the retreating group.

"And ensure we have no repeat of events,"

She had no intentions of having Azog chasing after them again…especially as he would not be chasing after then with the idea of bringing them back…not a second time.

The last Goblin in her sight who had not yet been swallowed by the shadows and smoke from the torches turned and performed a wobbly bow at the waist.

"Yes, Majesty," and then he too was gone.

-To Be Continued-

Chapter Text

The Company allowed themselves to be pushed and prodded from before the throne and through the stony corridors to the very place they had only just escaped from. It was almost insulting really. All that running and teeth dodging had ultimately been for nothing. More than one of their number allowed themselves a glare at the ever calm wizard who was being treated with great suspicion by the Goblins. Not that they could blame the creatures. Upon consideration most of them didn't completely trust Gandalf either.

The sounds of their heavy boots hitting against the cold stone floor echoed around them, mixed with the occasional hiss or growl from their Goblin herders to emphasis a particular prod.

None of them would admit it to anyone but themselves but it was nice to be surrounded once again by stone after so long with nothing but the open sky above and soil below them – it became unsettling after a while. It was a surprise to them all that, despite them being surrounded by Goblins at all times, the halls and caverns felt almost cosy. Homey even.

They cast glances at the Goblins about them, meeting each other's eyes occasionally and frowning their confusion at one another.

To look at the Goblins they appeared to be anything but organised. They moved with a hobbled swing that seemed almost painful but they had all witnessed how quickly the savage creatures would come to attention at one glance from Bilbo Baggins.

Just how had she managed this?

It was still difficult to get their heads around that she was the queen of this place. How in control she was. What was even more difficult to understand was how willingly the sniveling creatures bowed to her will.

And then there was the matter of the Orcs…

They arrived at the entrance to their cave and were non to gently pushed one by one through the gap - that was wide enough to admit three or more abreast - once they had been searched again for weapons.

It came as a surprise to no one when a hidden blade was found somewhere on Fili and he received a hard cuff to the side of the head by a leathery hand and an angry bearing of teeth from a grey face.

The young heir winced at the rough treatment but looked exceedingly pleased with himself, an unrepentant grin quirking the side of his lips as he was pushed along. In fact there was even a swagger to his trip as he righted himself from the push.

Silence filled the surprisingly warm cavern.

A fire burnt in the centre of the room, glowing hot and smoking little – it seemed that the Goblins had found a way not to accidently kill themselves by smoke inhalation in an attempt to stay warm.

Oin had pounced on the youngest Durin as soon as they had been left by the Goblins - none of them were foolish enough to think that a group had not been stationed at the entrance - and was ignoring his complaints to be left alone as he checked his colour and temperature with a concerned and practised eye.

Kili succeeded after many failed attempts in batting away the elderly healer.

"I am fine Oin," he smiled tiredly to soften his actions, "I feel a lot better than I did. That stuff was fowl though," he huffed, his eyes regaining some of their sparkle but he was unable to keep the grimace from twisting his lips at the memory of the fowl drink. He could still feel it oozing down his throat as he had been forced to swallow, his nose being covered and his mouth held shut by hands that he knew could have just as easily snapped his neck.

"It could have been poison lad. Then where would you be?" Oin told him, once again reaching to place his wrinkled hand across the prince's forehead.

Oin never had been one for trusting foreign concoctions and he preferred to know what was in a thing before dosing a patient with it. This treatment from these dark creatures did not sit well with him, even if it had been sanctioned by the Hobbit.

"Bilbo would never so that!" Kili objected, succeeding in dodging the hand and stepping around his brother, firmly placing Fili between himself and the healer who seemed to be determined to pronounce him ill or dying thanks to the healing draught.

He believed what he said and he looked to his brother for support. Fili just looked at him with worried eyes, obviously still trying to decide if he was going to start acting Orcish or something equally stupid.

He glanced to his uncle but he knew no backing would come from that quarter.

Thorin stood with his arms folded across his chest and an angry scowl creasing his features.

"Oh aye," Nori spoke up from behind his younger brother, "because we all know her so well, obviously," the red head narrowed his eyes and leveled Gandalf with his gaze.

The Wizard didn't even blink.

They all wondered if Gandalf had so many years of practice at being glared at that he just paid it no mind anymore. It would not surprise them if it was the case.

"The lass would never hurt the lads, she wouldn't hurt any of us," defended Bofur angrily, being held back from pouncing at the thief by Bifur's strong grip on his arm.

His cousin growled something and Bofur stopped struggling to turn his glare on Bifur. His expression shocked and hurt.

"You mind your tongue," he snapped in an uncharacteristic sign of anger at his relation.

"He's right," this time it was Dori who spoke up from his spot beside Ori where he was fussing with the younger's clothing and hair. He stopped to point his finger at Bofur. If it was a blade, the toy-maker would be dead. "She lied to us!"

"Well actual-" a soft voice began only to be cut off as the Company erupted into chaos. It seemed as though each member of the Company had found someone else to argue with, or at in Gandalf's case, as the Wizard stood tall and silent as he was ranted at - mainly by Thorin.

Balin however remained aloof and looked to the youngest Ri brother who was standing back from the shouting and fiddling with his sleeves, his eyes full of anxiety and he shifted his weight from one leg to the other, his mouth opening a shutting more than once as he went to speak and then changed his mind.

Balin felt sorry for him and wondered just what he had been trying to say before…well...this broke out.

He looked to Thorin who was still shouting at Gandalf – no doubt revisiting something already touched upon by the look of exasperation on the wizard's face - and sighed. It looked like he could not rely on his king to restore order.

He was getting far too old for this.

Balin cleared his throat.

"Silence!" he shouted, his voice echoed about the room, bouncing from one stone wall to the other.

Much to his surprise everyone stopped and all eyes turned to him.

He breathed in and out steadily before speaking.

"Now, the way I see it is that Miss Ba- I mean, her Majesty, never lied to us,"

Balin raised his hands to stop any potential arguments when he saw more than one mouth open.

"Ori, lad,"

All eyes now turned on the young scribe and he looked up from where he had been focusing on the ground with great interest.

"Yes, Master Balin,"

"Speak your mind lad,"

Ori gulped, not used to having the attention of so many upon him. Well, while he was sober anyway. He still cringed in embarrassment when he remembered his actions the night at Bag End.

"Umm…well, Miss…I...I mean her Majesty…she spoke to me a lot on the journey and I…I listened a lot to record it," he looked at Balin and he nodded in encouragement.

"She…umm…she never actually lied,"

A raised hand from Balin silenced the voices again, although a few still mumbled under their breath.

Ridiculous. The lass was married to Azog and ruled over the Misty Mountains. Of course she had lied to them how was anything else possible?

"She spoke a lot about the Shire and…and sometimes she mentioned her parents and she answers all of my questions but…but," his nerves finally seemed to get the better of him and he stopped to breath for a moment.

"No one really spoke to her,"

Mouths opened wider or closed with a click at the declaration.

"She was made the brunt of jokes and she answered questions that were put to her but no one really sat her down and had a conversation about…about herself,"

The young Dwarf closed his eyes and gulped.

"And…and when anything did come up she always managed to…to change the conversation. But she…she never lied,"

One by one they grudgingly accepted that he had a point. They hadn't really gone out of their way to make her a part of the Company at first, but during the journey she just seemed to fall into a routine. They had to admit that it felt almost awkward to ask her about herself after treating her so, and so they had just fallen into the habit of treating her as if she had always been there. And while it was obvious that she had a soft spot for the princes, Ori and even Bofur she accepted their actions towards her with a smile or, in Thorin's case, a sarcastic comment on occasion.

She listened intently to any stories they told around the fire, laughed at Bofur's jokes – risqué or otherwise – and would smile and chat with Bombur as she helped with the meals but there was nothing of substance discussed.

They had to admit Ori had a point.

-To Be Continued-

Chapter Text

The silence that fell from Ori’s words lasted through the arrival of the promised food and the initial tentative bites before Balin cleared his throat. It came as no surprise to them that they had been denied knives and forks and so fingers were burnt and blown upon in an attempt to tease steaming meat from the cooked joint that lay on a platter by the fire.

“Well, now that we have established that – no matter how vague she may have been – Miss Baggins did not lie to us we shall move on,”

There were a few grudging nods and grumbles of acceptance around half chewed food.

“The trolls?” Nori thumped his foot down in triumph, refusing to let the subject go. He was a thief, he lied for a living, how could he not have seen that the Hobbit was not on the up and up?

But right there was something she had lied to them about.

“She lied to us about-“

“She didn’t!”

Nori’s eyes widened in surprise at the vehemence in his usually quiet brother’s voice. He sounded almost exasperated now.

Ori’s eyes darted about the Company and Nori watched with rising amusement as Ori’s cheeks flushed up quickly with embarrassment. One of these days his little brother’s beard would catch fire from that blush he was sure of it.

“Bilbo didn’t lie about the trolls,” Balin nodded at Ori and picked up where he had finished, taking pity on the young Dwarf who had already been made to speak more than he was comfortable with.

“All she told us when she was asked was that she had told them to ‘go home’,” the old advisor stopped pointedly, a brow raised, to allow his words to sink in.

The lass really had tried her best to not lie to them and he respected her for that.

Mouths gaped once again about the room like fish on a river bank.

Balin was right. No matter how much they might wish he wasn’t. No matter how much they wished to plant Bilbo firmly in the wrong the old Dwarf had a point.

They thought back to every little moment that could remember with the Hobbit and what young Ori had told them. She had never told them an all-out falsehood. Like the young scribe said, she would always change the subject.

“And how exactly did you expect her to broach the subject, hmm?” Balin continued, meeting the eyes of each member of the Company - even the cool angry gaze of his king.

“We were stranger to her. A group of rowdy men who showed up in the late hours at her front door,” he glared at Gandalf as he spoke, he knew that the wizard had been very highhanded in his dealing with Bilbo that night, “She had no reason to trust us with her secrets. With information we did not earn and were not entitled to,”

Balin expected a reaction at this but received none. In fact, boots began to scuff along the floor and eyes dropped to the ground or focused with excessive interest upon the walls. Even Thorin remained quiet.

Well, it looked as though he had finally said the right thing to get them thinking.

Silence swallowed the room and even the food was ignored until Balin finally judged that enough time had been spent in stillness and thought. 

“What are we going to do about the offer, Thorin?” his voice shocked the Company enough to finally have them glance up, or away from rock walls. All eyes now shot to their leader.

“Do we have much of a choice?” scoffed Dwalin, his arms folded across his chest as he glanced at the entrance with open suspicion, expecting the Goblins to descend upon them at any moment.

All guilt seemed to fade instantly from the Company. Bofur glared angrily at the warrior and grumbles began to issue from some of the others.

The very thought of entering into an alliance of any kind with Orcs and Goblins of all creatures unnerved them all.

“Course we do. She wouldn’t have offered otherwise!” the hatted Dwarf growled.

To their surprise Thorin turned to Gandalf who was standing to the side puffing on a pipe. Just where had he got that from?

“Well, wizard,” Thorin growled, “what would you have us do? Forfeit our claim to the mountain in favour of this?”

The Wizard took the pipe from his mouth and breathed steadily for a few moments. They were sure he was doing it on purpose just to keep Thorin waiting.

“No, indeed not,” Gandalf finally answered, “I believe that retaking the mountain is to be your destiny Thorin. You shall all once again walk in the halls of your fathers,”

“So you would have us join with the Orcs?” Thorin asked his voice tense, every muscle in his body tight, “with the ones who slaughtered hundreds of our kin?” he threw out his arms, gesturing to the Company.

“From what Her Majesty told us, it would only be a temporary arrangement should you wish it to be,”

Thorin snorted at this and Gandalf scowled.

The Company felt the need to take a step away from the Wizard, feeling that something was about to start that they would much rather not find themselves in the middle of.

“I believe you did not listen to Her Majesty when she spoke,”

Another snort came from their leader and they took another step back.

Balin sighed. It didn’t seem to matter how hard he tried, diplomacy and tact were two qualities he never quite seemed to be able to teach his king.

“But you will listen to me, Thorin Oakenshield,” the Wizard bellowed.

The fire flickered and the room grew dark with the Wizard’s shadow which seemed to spread to every surface. They had witnessed this same phenomenon the night at Bag End but this seemed much worse.

While Thorin had appeared unmoved by the display that night this time he staggered backward as though being forced.

And then, just as quickly as the darkness had dropped over them, it lifted and Gandalf was once again the almost scruffy looking old wanderer they had journeyed with for weeks.

“You will respect Bilbo Baggins as a fellow ruler if nothing else, Thorin Oakenshield,” the Wizard’s eyes glistened dangerously.

“Now, I am certain that you can trust Bilbo’s word and I know you are more than aware that she is the only one in favour of this temporary alliance. Azog would have had your head the moment he saw you if Bilbo had not stepped in. Perhaps you should think on that,”

Thorin kept his eyes steadily on the Wizard, never wavering for a moment.

“There are matters at hand that are larger than us all and Bilbo is right to try and put differences aside – even for a short time – to be victorious against this enemy,”

Thorin’s mouth opened to speak but Gandalf interrupted him before he could utter a word.

“You would do well to follow her example in this,” the wizard spoke sternly.

“And fight an enemy no one had heard of in millennia?” Thorin scoffed.

“Just because the wolf sleeps, it does not mean it is not there,” Gandalf replied, “An army is flocking to the shadows, the darkness is drawing all who have no strength to fight it. Smaug is a creature of darkness, one of the last – if not the last - of a race created by the first Dark Lord. Should the Dragon ally with the enemy the results would be bloody and terrible,”

“Can the same not be said of the Orcs and Goblins?” Balin asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

What was stopping the Orcs and Goblins who were by all appearances loyal to Bilbo and ruled by her from returning to their Master?

Gandalf stood in deep though for a moment before answering.

“In a way, yes. Just as there is nothing stopping Smaug from rejecting any offers to join with the enemy there is nothing stopping those allied with Bilbo from returning,”

This caused a ripple of unease to wash through the Company.

“But I do not see that happening. The Orcs serve their Master through fear, perhaps a few also serve through what it can gain them, but, in the end it is the strongest who will have remained by Azog’s side. If they have remained strong for so long I cannot see them faltering now. And as for Bilbo’s Goblins, they have been separated from their brethren for centuries, they have no desire to set a new Dark Lord over themselves,”

The silence that fell after Gandalf’s words was interrupted by a heavy sigh from Thorin as he turned to face the Company.

“You are the few who were loyal enough to come on this journey, a journey that held no promise of success, I shall make no decision without your say,”

They had no expected that.

---To Be Continued---

Chapter Text

Bilbo breathed steadily as the last sounds of the Dwarves faded from around her and settled back into her throne, staring into the darkness. Her mind spun as she stared at nothing and she struggled to focus on one thing at a time. She forced herself to stop pondering on the things she could no longer see – that being the Company – and instead focused on what was happening around her.

She was aware of her Captain of the Guard standing to the side and scowling as she was accustomed to him doing. The scowl was aimed at her husband – also as she was accustomed.

While she would have loved to have teased an unwilling smile from her ever faithful Captain she couldn't ignore her husband as he paced and growled to himself. His massive frame seemed to gain bulk in his anger. His shadow flickered across the walls and planks as the smoking torches spluttered and spat. She winced as she caught sight of more than one burning spark land on his bare arms when he strayed too close. He didn't even offer them a glance, allowing them to fall away from his white skin on their own.

Bilbo sighed. Her heart jumping in her chest. It was time for her to face the consequences for her way of approaching Thorin. She thought she knew why Azog was angry and she also knew that he needed to get it out of his system.

"You are angry husband?" she spoke calmly, her voice not even offering the slightest echo in the cavern.

He continued his pacing, only pausing to bare his teeth at her in an angry snarl before continuing on again and hissing to himself.

Her Captain of the Guard shifting from foot to foot had her glancing at him for a moment, just in time to catch him placing a hand on the crude dagger at his waist.

Bilbo appreciated the gesture but she knew that the Goblin would not stand a chance against Azog. And in the temper that he was her husband would go straight for the killing blow – there would be no playing with his prey.

She caught her Captain's narrowed gaze and shook her head at him. His hand moved slowly away from the hilt of his weapon but rested not even an inch away.

Oh well, better than nothing, she supposed.

She turned her attention back to her still simmering husband.

"What would you have had me do?" she asked him levelly.

In the time it took her to blink Azog was in front of her, hands on either side of her throne and caging her in. The back of her head struck her chair as she jerked backwards in shock. She ignored the way her head rattled and fought to remain calm.

He was furious.

While most – who didn't know any better – would think that Azog was always in this state, during her years with him she had very rarely seen him this angry and it did shake her. She breathed, her eyes flickering from his snarling mouth to his eyes. They burned into hers.

"You begged!" he snarled.

Sometimes she really hated being proved correct. She knew he would have hated that.

"Do? I would have my wife not beg for the assistance of miners,"

Oh for pities sake!

"You begged that filth, Oakenshield, for his help,"

"We need their help," she couldn't hide the tremor in her voice. Having her husband's wrath aimed at her in such a way was a terrifying thing.

He wouldn't hurt her. She was sure of it. But still…

"No matter how distasteful you find it. We do, husband. What if we had no assistance and by some miracle of fate we won whatever battle awaits. Then what?"

He loomed in closer to her and snarled, their noses nearly touching. She could feel the warmth of him through her gown, his hot breath brushing her skin.

"My Queen-" her Captain's voice sounded panicked from behind her husband.

As quick as a flash Azog had turned his head to snarl at him, stilling any potential movement the Goblin may have made and turned back to face her.

"We celebrate our victory over our enemies," he smiled ferociously at her.

"And when the other races see that one faction has kindly decimated the other – doing half the work in their eyes – and takes it into their heads to see Middle Earth wiped clean of Orcs…Goblins…Trolls," she leaned towards him, her words giving her courage, "What then?" she hissed.

Bilbo could hear the wood of the armrest creaking beneath her husband's grip.

"My wife…My Queen, begs for nothing!"

Typical. He was going to ignore what she had said because he didn't want to admit she was right.

She jumped as a fist collided with the side of her chair.

Her own anger finally flared. Enough. She could be just as livid as her husband if she put her mind to it and she would not be cowed any longer.

"What would you have had me do?" she repeated her question, nearly spitting into his snarling face, "Continue to make an enemy of the future king of Erebor?"

Azog huffed in amusement at this and she rolled her eyes at the childish display.

"Thorin is a proud man, and I did not enjoy being the one to beg before him, but husband," Bilbo reached a trembling gloved hand – traitor! – to his face and cupped his cheek in her palm, stroking her thumb back and forth gently beneath his eye, her tone softened, "We need him. The Dwarves…the Elves…the Men if we can. They need to know and see what we are. I swore to protect our people. This is the only way I can see of doing it. War is imminent …I have faith we will succeed. It is after that concerns me,"

Silence fell between them now. She kept her eyes traced on his the only sound between them their breathing.

"Very well," he finally growled and raising his hand to hers, slid her hand from his face.

A small strip of pale skin glowed in the torchlight where her sleeve and glove gaped.

Now holding her hand in his he raised it to his mouth. Her breath caught as he scraped his teeth along the sensitive flesh, crossing over the delicate blue veins with his dangerously sharp teeth. He breathed in deeply, pressing his nose to that same bit of skin.

Bilbo slowly took in a lung full of air, not moving her hand from his or attempting to get away.

"Is my head safe for another night, husband?" she queried, sounding weak even to her own ears.

A dry laugh was huffed into her skin, the sudden gust of air sending shivers through her.

He dropped her hand into her lap, flashing her a genuine smile as he replaced his hand beside her. Once again boxing her in as he leaned in close, his lips coming to rest by her ear.

"You cause much trouble for one so small, wife," he hissed into her ear, nipping the lob as he drew away.

She squeaked in shock and batted at his shoulder as he finally straightened and flashing her a view of his teeth for the last time before he turned and stalked away.

Bilbo watched him moving to the bridge, flanked by his men for a few moments before she called after him.

"I'll take that as a yes, shall I?"

Rough laughter echoing from the darkness was the only answer she received.

"Men!" she grumbled irritably, clenching her still shaking hands for a moment before raising one to her abused ear.

"My Queen, are you well,"

Bilbo didn't realise she had closed her eyes until she opened them and looked into the concerned face of her Captain.

A shuddering laugh escaped her in a gush as she stood from her throne.

"I am well my friend, fear not,"

The Goblin hovered at her shoulder as she stepped out of the circle of light on the platform provided by the torches and into the dimmer caverns.

"I go to see the trolls," she spoke over her shoulder at the still fretting Goblin.

They would raise her sprits.

-To Be Continued-

Chapter Text

With the Dwarves

Words as well as blows had been exchanged.

Nori nursed a burst lip from a stray punch thrown by Bofur when things had grown most chaotic and was attempting to bat his brother away with the hand that wasn't holding a damp rag to the cut.

Ori, Kili and Fili stood in a small group, chewing on some of the now cold meat and glaring at Nori who they all saw as being well deserving of the blow – accidental or not.

Gandalf stood calm and aloof, still puffing on the pipe.

Balin cleared his throat to draw the attention of the company to him.

The elderly Dwarf wasn't sure how Thorin truly felt about the decision reached but knew that if he had wanted a different one he should have kept his own council.

"We are decided then?"

Grumbled 'Ayes' came from the company.

Obviously choosing to waste no more time he turned to Thorin who nodded his head slowly and stalked to the entrance of the cave.

"I would have words with the H-"

Balin's quick fit of throat clearing – a helpful little device even if he did say so himself – had his King turning to him. He shook his head, his eyes telling Thorin to try his best to show some respect.

Thorin's shoulders heaved in a sigh Balin could not hear and he turned back to the Goblin guard that stood sentry just out of sight.

"I would have words with your Queen,"

With Bilbo

Bilbo ate her food slowly and deliberately, her nerves turning her stomach and making each mouthful almost painful to swallow.

She was in her private chambers, the alcove she used as a study brightly illuminated with candles – smoking and spitting torches had proved to be far too dangerous to use in such a small space (she still grieved for the documents she had lost to a stray spark). She was slowly working her way through a pile of documents that had accumulated during her absence.

Giving up on the food she pushed the plate of rapidly cooling meat stew away and reached for her tea.

She took a sip and sighed in contentment. Just the thing to settle a nervous stomach.

Bilbo had enjoyed her visit to the trolls and had felt guilty for not seeing them sooner. They had wasted no time in apologising rapidly for their bad-behaviour, thinking that she was angry with them and that was why she had not been to see them.

She had assured them that matters of the Dwarven persuasion had been what kept her away and their moods had improved so much that the safest place for her to be was on a ledge that jutted from the wall some fifteen or so feet in the air so they would not stand on her in their excitement.

Her trolls did not live deep within the range as the passages grew too small for them in places and the walkways too frail to support their weight. Instead they dwelled in a mass of caves and caverns that lay through a huge passage in the wall of the entrance that that led to the same cliff the Dwarves had nearly fallen from.

"We's heard them mistress," Bert had told her anxiously when the Dwarves had been brought up, "But the sun was out,"

She had simply told them with a smile that no harm had been done and of course they shouldn't even contemplate leaving the caves when it was light out. All of them had smiled in relief that they hadn't done wrong and had gone on to tell her of their return journey ('We didn't eat one two legger, Mistress, not even a stringy one,")

She was glad to be back. In the Shire she wasn't really needed – she had no family (well, other than several dozen cousins), no children, no husband… but here she was. Here she had come into herself. She had been given a cause. Something to protect and defend. Although she had been terrified when she had first been given the responsibility, now she could not imagine her life without it.

She glanced longingly at the plate of food and her stomach flipped.

She could happily do without the nerves caused from waiting for the Company's decision to her offer.

What would she do if they said no?

Well, she knew what she would do with them, even if her husband was dead set against it. They would be getting sent on their merry way a few days behind schedule to begin with – and if that did end up being the case she couldn't even muster the regret to feel sorry for it.

But would she go with them? Or would she say behind in her own kingdom. She had signed her name – well, one of them – to the contract but could she in all good conscience help to regain a kingdom that could turn against her own one day? Could she do it?

She hoped she would not have to make that decision.

Her stomach rolled again and she sipped on the steaming ginger tea slowly – never so thankful for the herbs and vegetables that she traded stones for with Rivendell in her life.

As a Hobbit one rock looked very much the same as another to her, and so she had been surprised to find that deep within her realm lay vast stores of stone and crystal found essential by the Elves in their healing and crafts.

As crops and plants did not flourish well either within or without of the mountain it had been beneficial for all concerned when she had suggested a trade arrangement with Lord Elrond not long after her…coronation.

Rocks trumped food any day of the week in Bilbo's eyes.

So now, instead of her subjects spending their time squabbling almost themselves and waylaying the occasional innocent traveller they mined. The supply of food led to a better diet for everyone in her realm – she shuddered in disgust at the thought of some of the things that had been placed before her in those first few months – and she had watched as nasty sores that littered the Goblins skin cleared up and they could even stand the faint light of early morning now…

Bilbo drew a roll of parchment towards her – the decorative wax seal holding it closed reminding her of the contract she had signed. She broke the seal and began to read welcoming anything to take her mind from the wait.

The candles had almost halved in size and Bilbo sat back in her chair, the pile of papers she had seen to now higher than the one that needed to be looked at.

"Well done Bilbo," she stretched her arms high above her head, her back giving a satisfying pop.

"Time for bed I think,"

Bilbo glanced around as though she could get the time of day from the alcove walls.

The sound of talking at the entrance to her chambers had her standing and going towards the noise.

"Majesty?" the high pitched voice of one of her guards called.

"Enter,"

The slightly hunched form of one of the hand chosen guards that stood watch at her door entered and stood at his tallest before her, his back as straight as possible.

"Yes?"

"Your Majesty, the Dwarf wants to speak to you,"

Her stomach flipped and the sickness came flooding back.

She had actually forgotten about them.

Placing a hand on her stomach she swallowed convulsively.

"Does he indeed," she mumbled.

It looked like the time had finally come.

"Very well," her hand dropped to her side and she walked past the guard all the while issuing instructions.

"Please fetch my husband from wherever he is lurking and inform him of what is happening, I shall meet him in the audience chamber,"

She paused in the hallway and turned to the guard ambling behind her, the poor soul nearly walking into her she stopped and turned so quickly,.

She allowed him to regain his equilibrium before continuing.

"You had better find your Captain also,"

"Yes Majesty,"

-To Be Continued-

Chapter Text

"Missing?"

Bilbo had been sitting waiting for her husband, lost in thought and gazing into the dimness outside of the circles of light offered by the torches. She had been wondering just what the answer would be from Thorin and the Company.

But not now. Now, Thorin and his band had been shoved behind this fresh problem.

Both Azog and her Captain had arrived within minutes of each other and while her husband was standing to the side, his arms folded across his chest and glaring, the Goblin had immediately began to speak after giving a perfunctory bow.

Two of the Goblins that had been pushed from the walkways during the Dwarve's 'escape' had not been found.

"Yes Majesty, they have not been found,"

How was that possible? They could not have just vanished. Goblins took tumbles from the bridges and walls all the time, but the network of ropes and pulleys ensured there was always something for them to grip on to and stop the fall. And even if they did collide with the ground they were tough creatures and still tended to walk away in one piece. It took more than a fall to kill a Goblin –she was strangely proud to admit this little fact.

"The search continues?" she asked.

"Majesty-"

"I want them found, Captain," Goblins did not just vanish – they didn't. But then again sometimes they did…

Something that Bert had said during her visit with the Trolls drifted to the front of her mind. She hadn't paid much attention to it at the time – more worried about a stray elbow catching her on her 'safe' perch and sending her flying - but now she wondered…

"We's heard something mistress, something flappy,"

Flappy? Or was it floppy?

Well, it didn't matter, either one was suspicious.

What of the other Goblins and the children who had vanished through the years?

"Armed search party's Captain,"

"Armed, Majesty?" the Goblin queried and she even caught her husband glancing at her in some confusion.

They probably think I have gone insane. And maybe I have…But something is wrong.

"Armed, Captain. Search the tunnels below the bridges,"

"Yes, Majesty,"

"And no one travels alone. Groups of two or more at all times,"

Her Captain hurried to the entrance to issue orders to the guards and then returned to the chamber to stand in the shadows.

Perhaps she was just worrying over nothing. Maybe the two missing Goblins were not really missing but had just gone uncounted or unnoticed…

But what would be 'flappy' (or 'floppy') in the caverns where the Trolls lived? Any wildlife in the surrounding woodland had learned long ago not to seek shelter in the mountain range and although she knew there was underground lakes dotted throughout her realm there were none by the Troll's cavern – she was certain they hadn't been near water since…well, ever.

"You make a burden of trifles, wife,"

She turned to Azog and only smiled tiredly.

"Perhaps,"

"The filth demands an audience?"

Accepting the sudden change in the conversation and choosing to ignore his name calling for the time being – there would be no changing it she was sure – she nodded her head.

"I do not know what his answer will be…"

What did she want it to be?

If the answer was no, she would go with them to the Mountain. After all, she was still needed in Gandalf's grand plan to get the Dragon - if he lived (which was probable) – ousted from Erebor. Smaug was still a danger that the enemy could utilise and would need to be dealt with.

Azog began his customary grumbling and Bilbo was sure what he wished the answer would be. Any answer that allowed him to separate a Dwarf's head from his Dwarf body.

Her eyes widened as her husband stalked to the entrance and shouted into the passage.

"Fetch the filth!"

Well, it looked as though it was time for Thorin to be escorted to them.

To the point as always, husband.

His order issued he returned to her side.

"Filth? Really husband?" alright, so maybe she couldn't help the little smile that accompanied her words.

He gave her a playful growl in return and she bared her teeth back at him and snapped them at him.

Azog actually appeared surprised by her reaction but then he smiled that terrifying grin of his and closed the gap between them.

Once again Bilbo found herself with her back pressed against her chair and her husband looming over her. This time there was no anger glittering in his eyes as he stared into her own. She lost focus of him as his face drew neared and vanished entirely as he sniffed at her neck.

A throat clearing reminded her that they were not alone and her face heated in embarrassment as her hands shot to his massive shoulders and she pushed him away. Or rather, he chuckled into her neck at her failing attempts to shift him, planted what could have been a kiss or a lick onto her skin, and backed away in his own sweet time.

She narrowed her eyes at him as he rolled his shoulders in an entirely too satisfied way and stepped to the side.

Silence fell now, with Bilbo still shooting annoyed looks at her husband, Azog looking very smug, and her Captain of the Guard once again clutching the hilt of his dagger with (no doubt) every intention of planting it into her husband's back if given half the chance.

The stillness between them was just beginning to become oppressive when the sound of heavy boots echoed in the corridor. As the Dwarves were the only beings present in her realm who wore such bulky footwear – Azog and his Orcs tended towards soft leather – she assumed that more than Thorin were being shown to the chamber.

Her Captain gave her a quick bow and walked to the entrance to speak to the guard out of sight.

"Bring the filth in," Azog shouted from her side, obviously growing tired with the delay.

The Goblin ignored her husband, continued his discussion for a few moments and then returned to her.

Bilbo rolled her eyes as Azog snarled and the Goblin returned the gesture.

Oh, for the love of-

"Majesty, Oakenshield insisted on the Wizard and another accompanying him," he looked very put out by this but Bilbo found it laughable. She was sure that the insisting had come from Balin (who she was certain was the one with him) and Gandalf didn't really care what anyone thought…

"Have them brought in,"

"I do not trust the Wizard," Azog rumbled at her side as the group was shown in.

There were two guards walking in front of Thorin. Balin was walking behind him to the right while the much taller frame of Gandalf loomed to the left. Two more guards followed behind.

Well, they were guarded well enough anyway.

"Leave us!" Azog snarled and after one panicked look at her (she nodded at them and smiled reassuringly) they scuttled from the chamber, leaving her alone with her husband, Captain, two Dwarves and a Wizard.

"Your Majesty," Balin bowed at the waist and straightened only to shoot an angry glare at Thorin.

She had to bite the inside of her mouth to stop from giggling when she saw the elderly Dwarf prod his king in the back.

Thorin bowed quickly but said nothing.

Bilbo focused on trying to breath without bursting out laughing. It took her a few steady breaths but she finally trusted herself to speak without embarrassing herself.

"Gentlemen, what can I do for you?"

Thorin continued to stand stony and unmovable and Gandalf looked amused as he glanced at each of them.

It once again fell to Balin to break the silence.

"You Majesty, as the offer you put forward to us affected the whole Company, the whole Company made the decision,"

Well, she did not expect that.

"We thank you for the offer you made us and the Company of Thorin Oakenshielf – and by extension the Dwarves of the Kingdom of Erebor and all who will fall under the rule of the Durin line – pledge themselves to assist in the whatever battle may come in the future against the evil we will all face,"

That was some speech.

"I thank you-"

Balin raised his hand to gently silence her and she closed her mouth.

"We of course fully expect you to keep to the contract, in the assisting of the removal of the dragon from Erebor,"

Bilbo slowly nodded her head, she had already decided to help with taking care of Smaug so it was no hardship in agreeing to this.

"Of course," she spoke solemnly as the situation required while gripping onto Azog's arm to stop him from leaping at the councillor.

She held on. Tightly.

"We also, make no promises as to a continuing alliance after the battle,"

She could feel the muscle above the prosthetic arm tensing beneath her gloved hand.

Please don't kill the Dwarves. Please don't kill the Dwarves. We don't need a long standing alliance. We don't. We just need it to last long enough. That's all.

She nodded her head slowly in agreement to the terms.

"I assume you wish to draw up a contract, Master Balin?"

"Yes, you Majesty, I would be grateful if the supplies would be made available to me,"

"Of course, Master Balin,"

Bilbo's stomach finally rolled for the first time since she had sat down and she released her husband's arm to stand quickly.

"We shall have a meal together tomorrow and we can write a contract that is agreeable to all parties,"

She stepped down the few steps that led to her chair and swept past the Dwarves and Wizard. She tried to be regal as she felt the sweat begin to bead on her forehead.

"Now, please excuse me gentleman,"

She kept her steps measured until she left the chamber and then she ran.

Bilbo made it several corridors before she could go no further and she doubled over.

She wretched and coughed, her hands shaking as days of insecurity and questions came to a crescendo.

They were going to help.

Rolling away from the mess she had made she slowly managed to push herself up to sit against the wall.

Her hands still shaking, her face cool with sweat and stray strands of hair sticking to her forehead she began to sob.

They were going to help.

-To Be Continued-

Chapter Text

Bilbo continued to lay shivering up against the wall, breathing into her knees and trying not to vomit again when she was swept up into strong arms.

She kept her eyes shut tight, trying to keep her still tumbling stomach under control.

She rolled her head against her husband's chest, all strength in her neck draining from her, and thumped weakly at a part of him with her fist. She felt as floppy as an overcooked carrot.

She tried to speak but the burning in her throat got in the way of her voicing the guttural snarls required of her. She groaned and gave up on the idea of speaking, deciding to focus on ignoring how high up she was - really, no one had any business being so tall – and breathing as steadily as she was able.

In and out Bilbo, in and out.

Azog grumbled something somewhere above her but her swimming head refused to allow her to concentrate on his words.

Wait?

Oh.

Someone else was replying to him. Looked like he wasn't talking to her to begin with.

Well, that was good.

The weakness refused to leave her limbs and she sagged completely into him.

Bilbo must have dozed off for a moment because the next thing she knew she was being jerked impartially from her clothes.

She heard something rip.

Oh dear.

She tried to muster the energy to open her eyes to show her displeasure at the abuse her clothes were suffering.

She was hardly surprised when nothing happened.

A chill ran across her collarbone at the removal of her gown. Next she felt her left hand being lifted and gently the tip of each finger was pinched and the glove pulled from her hand. The same was done with her right hand.

Had she been left in her shift? Or had she dozed off again when she was put into her nightgown?

Bilbo felt herself begin to drift and as she felt the dip of a mattress beneath her and a quilt being tucked around her she didn't care.

Her head swam slightly as she was lifted up gently, a strong arm around her shoulders supporting her, a cup was held to her lips. She sipped slowly, not caring about the few drops that dripped down the sides of her lips to soak into the neckline of whatever she was wearing.

She was returned to her pillow.

Bilbo slept.

When Bilbo woke next it took her a moment to remember where she was and how she had come to be there. She found herself stroking the quilt covering her and then froze. It was a pelt!

A rough laugh had her opening her eyes.

She blinked several times to bring everything into focus in the candlelit chamber. The first thing she saw was her husband's chest. A sickly grey in the light and littered with scars. She looked up. And up. And up. Really. Why was he so tall? It was just plain rude. She nearly giggled at the thought of orc-like hobbits and wondered sleepily if she had been slipped something other than water in that cup.

Finally she reached her husband's neck, his chin, his nose and then last but not least his eyes.

"You finally wake, wife?"

"I have a name other than 'wife', husband," she croaked trying to sit up.

Azog merely chuckled again and stepped forward to assist her.

In no time at all she was once again taking steadying breaths, her back against the headboard.

She looked around.

Huh. She had actually been put to bed and not bunked down in front of the fire.

That was nice of him…

She looked at him suspiciously, her eyes narrowing.

"My thanks for putting me to bed," she coughed violently and reached for the cup by her bed side and took a sip.

The slightly room-warmed water was pleasantly cool to her parched mouth.

"How long was I asleep?" her voice was still rough with sleep but the painful rasp had been soothed by the water

"The night,"

Brisk and to the point as always, she rolled her eyes.

Ouch. Her eyeballs felt gritty in her head, as though they were scraping against the inside of her eyelids.

He turned and left her sight completely, bellowing to some poor passing goblin about bringing food to their queen. She thought she caught something about what did they think they were doing, to starve her so and this time she couldn't stop the laughter.

For such a brash and vicious male, Azog tended to react strangely to any illness on her part. She remembered with some fondness the time she had fallen ill with a winter fever some years ago. Azog had actually tried to threaten her into getting better, all the while plying her with some disgusting Orc healing tonic that tasted as though it would destroy her tongue. She had got better and he had preened like a peacock for days thinking his unconventional healing method had worked. She knew the horrible liquid had helped. His other tactic, not so much – although it had been highly amusing for her to lay back and listen to him rant at her, trying to scare the bugs out of her…it had been almost endearing.

He did not return to her until someone brought a platter of food to him.

He placed the tray on the bed beside her and lifted the lid from a steaming bowl of stew. Thick slices of coarse bread were propped against the bowl and the slice she picked up warmed her fingers.

She took a bite and chewed contentedly.

With a grunt Azog slid the bowl closer to her on the tray.

She quirked a brow at him, glancing between the Orc who had turned into a mother duck while she was asleep and the steaming food. She shrugged, deciding to go along with it and reached for the stew.

Under the watchful gaze of Azog she worked her way through the bowl a spoon at a time.

It was good.

"Have the Dwarves been cared for?" she asked between mouthfuls, realising that if she had been asleep for hours there had been no one around to issue orders for the care of the Company.

Azog smiled savagely at her and as calmly as she could she placed the nearly empty bowl back onto the tray.

She looked her husband in the eyes and breathed deeply and calmly.

"Azog, did you kill them?" she asked steadily.

He wouldn't have, would he?

Who was she fooling? Of course he would have. She just hoped he hadn't.

Azog chuckled darkly and left the room.

"Azog!" she called after him.

All she could hear over the coughing that suddenly wracked her frame was his continued laughter.

She really hated him sometimes.

A lot.

-To Be Continued-

Chapter Text

The Dwarves were alive. Very much alive. And making a lot of noise.

She had signed the contract

"Well gentlemen, " Bilbo had just finished putting her name to the agreement which clearly stated that no longstanding agreement was being offered or to be expected between herself and the line of Durin or the future rulers of the Kingdom of Erebor - oh yes, that had been made abundantly clear, both verbally and in writing.

One by one the chatting Dwarves fell silent and turned to her.

"As we have reached an understanding, I think it only proper that we share a meal," she may be the queen of the Goblins (and occasionally some Orcs when her husband decided to play nice) but she was still a Hobbit and no self-respecting Hobbit would neglect to seal such a bargain without including a meal in the proceedings.

Bilbo sat at the head of the table, once again sharing a meal with the Company.

She had watched as the same Goblin from the last meal had happily licked the plates out of sight of the Dwarves before placing them on the table. She caught the pleased eyes of the Goblin and shook her head slightly at him. There was no sign of apology in the smug face and she shook her head again, this time in fond exasperation.

It made her Goblins happy and a little bit of Goblin saliva would hardly kill the Dwarves.

It looked like the Company would be getting damp plates for the foreseeable future.

She caught her husband's eye – he looked smugger than the wretched Goblin – and shrugged to herself.

Honestly, she really was fighting a losing battle.

Her Goblins scuttled about, filling the table with platters of food and jugs of liquids that ranged from ale to wine. They squealed and shrieked to each other when they bashed elbows and occasionally heads. One of the guards standing behind her chair snarled at the bickering Goblins to behave and they darted away from the table, still pushing at each other but taking their argument elsewhere.

Bilbo picked from the plate that Azog had filled for her, watching the Dwarves attack their food, apparently they no longer feared their meal being poisoned.

Her husband's warg had better table manners than this lot, but at least they were no long looking at the food as though it would grow hands and throttle them.

She had been glad to find upon rising from her bed that Azog had not wiped out the Company while she was indisposed. She liked to think her influence was rubbing off on him…strengthening his self-control a bit. So she was very pleased with him that thirteen Dwarf heads were attached to the thirteen Dwarf bodies they belonged to, so she could hardly be annoyed that he hadn't fed them.

Bilbo pushed her still half-full plate away from her, grimacing at the sight of meat fat dripping from beards.

Fool that she was, Bilbo had actually hoped the signing of the contract would calm things a little.

Fool!

Now, stomachs full, they all poured over a map, planning the next part of their journey to the mountain.

She stood back and listened to them bicker like old women and she realised that she had relaxed a little too soon.

They had been at it continually since the maps had been brought out and placed on the now empty dining table. Candles and torches had been placed at a strategic distance from the paper to avoid any accidents.

Honestly, the men put the Hobbiton Fair judges to shame with their arguing.

Leaving them to it, Bilbo ignored them for the time being and studied the mixture of maps that littered the table top. They ranged from being a few years old, to well before her time, but each of them contained information that was needed and valuable. From rivers that had long dried up to treaty lines newly penned.

Of course there was the slight issue of just what some of the older maps were made of. Some were quite innocent – nothing more than flakes of bark with rudimentary lines scratched into the wood – while others were not. A disturbing number of the older documents were drawn upon leather and she didn't want to know who or what had parted with its hide for the task. Knowing her predecessors predilection for certain things she only hoped the skinning had occurred after death.

She gulped and stopped that train of thought before it became even more macabre.

She pushed the map she was peering at to the side and slid one of the newer ones into its spot.

Parchment, crisp, clean and not a leather sheet.

Treaty lines were clearly marked as well as the trading locations and the hunting grounds for the packs.

She ran a finger along the lines and swirls that represented the beginning of what had once been the Greenwood and had now earned the name of Mirkwood. It was some distance from her mountains. A week or more of hard travel…

Snarling and growling in Black Speech, common and 'Thorin' and her looking up, a frown of thought still creasing her forehead.

What now?

For pities sake, could they not go one meeting without having a growling contest?

Bilbo found it rather amusing that despite the language barrier everyone seemed to be making themselves understood rather well.

"No Gandalf, we can't," Bilbo was growing tired of repeating herself to the wizard.

"Through Mirkwood is the swiftest way,"

It won't be if a certain someone apprehends us.

"And I know of someone you could lend us aid and provisions for the journey through the wood,"

Bilbo had a sinking feeling she knew who this someone was. After all, there was only one person between the Misty Mountains and Mirkwood.

"We no longer have the ponies and unless you have some hidden in a cave somewhere," Bilbo did not like Gandalf's tone, "the journey will take longer. Time we cannot afford,"

She turned to Azog who was still snarling and growling at Thorin who was doing his best to equal her husband's animal sounds. The rest of the Company had distanced themselves from the arguing pair but were watching with avid attention. Money changed hands from Nori to Bofur.

Typical.

"Husband!" she called for his attention and waited for him to finish whatever thought he was snarling out and turn to her, "The Wargs, would they permit other riders?"

Because if they did they would move a lot quicker than those wretched ponies had.

Azog scoffed at the mere idea, obviously thinking she was jesting. She wasn't and her raised brow and serious frown told him this.

"Perhaps, if one of my riders rode with them,"

Would the Dwarves be willing to ride the same animal as an Orc. Maybe. After all would they have a choice in the matter?

"Wargs travel faster than ponies, Gandalf," she smiled at the slightly shocked expression on the Wizards face, but there was no side-tracking the great Gandalf.

"They may do, but that does not change the fact that travelling through Mirkwood could take weeks from the journey!" Gandalf was getting very irritated now, but she had faced a furious Azog more than once and an angry Gandalf did not really scare her.

She thought of Mirkwood.

The standing between herself and the Woodland Realm was not what she would call entirely amicable. The Orcs – despite the fact that they had split from their master, they were still a violent bunch – enjoyed hunting the spiders that had spread into what had once been known as the Greenwood. It allowed them an activity to vent their bloodlust without killing each other.

Thranduil had no problem with her husband's band decimating the eight legged population of his realm every few months, but neither did he go out of his way to have his elves check just who they were shooting at – and he never would. So, as the matter stood, her husband and his men were welcome to the spiders but they only had themselves to blame if they got themselves killed by an Elven arrow.

Could they all make it through Mirkwood without injuries from the Wood Elves? Maybe if they spilt up. A group of two or three would be harder to track than a group of several dozen after all… She would have to put more thought into that, and soon, as it appeared that Gandalf would not be swayed on this matter despite her warnings and that of her husband.

"The Wood is sick wizard. The air is sick!" Azog snarled.

She had stood upon the very edge of the Wood only once since beginning her rule and she did not relish the thought of entering the dark place. Her husband was right. The air had been heavy even when she had stood only in the shadow of the trees. And the earth has been poisoned. She had been able to feel it seep into her bones and making her limbs feel heavy…calling her to curl up and sleep.

"And this person you know Gandalf," she levelled him with a look, "We cannot cross his lands,"

Gandalf stared at her, not wanting to admit who this acquaintance was.

"We would not make it a mile before being caught," she told him.

"Someone who did not wish to align themselves with you?" Thorin scoffed, "I would like to meet this person,"

Bilbo turned to scowl at him just in time to see Balin shooting him a look. Did the wretched man have to pick at every little loose thread of her life?

Of course he did. He didn't like her.

Azog snarled at the Dwarves but wore a wicked grin. She knew he was remembering the skin-changer and just why no alliance had been forthcoming with the giant man.

Her husband had not been sorry for the reason then and he was still not showing the least bit of remorse over his actions.

Yip. An Orc was an Orc even if they had an issue with their Master.

"Master Beorn and my husband have a –"

A what?

Rivers of blood sloshing between them?

A huge problem with each other?

Well, that wasn't strictly true. Azog couldn't care less about Beorn. Beorn on the other hand…

" – have a past," she finished.

A past that involved the decimating of a people and using them for sport…

Her stomach still churned at the thought of some of the things her husband had done over his very long life. Some because he had been told to, some because his mind hadn't been all there after centuries of unspeakable things, and some (she had to admit to herself) just because he wanted to.

When she had found out exactly what he husband had been up to so many years ago she couldn't exactly fault Beorn for his decision. In fact, she thought he had handled the situation very calmly when she had approached him about a possible treaty, all things considered.

"We can travel through Mirkwood," she spoke slowly, deliberately, "But we will have to take some…precautions,"

-To Be Continued-

Chapter Text

Bilbo explained patiently to the Company what the lay of the land would be if they (meaning Gandalf) insisted on travelling through Mirkwood to reach the Lonely Mountain.

Namely, that smaller groups would be required in order to avoid…detection.

They didn't mind that. In fact they accepted it with relative ease – even when they were made to realise that an Orc or two would accompany each party.

The Warg riding on the other hand did not meet with as much agreement and the room once again became a sea of shouts of denial and disgust.

Bilbo was getting very tired of this habit of theirs.

After some further explaining and working on calming down the panicking Company she sent them on their way to meet their 'steeds' along with her husband. Their faces had been a picture. Anyone would have been forgiven for thinking she was sending them to their execution. Except, of course, for Gandalf. The old reprobate's inappropriate sense of humour had returned in full force and he appeared to be finding the whole situation quite amusing. ..

Bilbo sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. Why did they have to make everything so difficult?

Clashing and hissing drifted to her from the passage way interrupting her moment of peace and she stood from her chair ready to face whatever was coming. The guards who stood at either side of the entrance tensed, gripping their spears in a way that meant they could let them fly without trouble if necessary.

Her Captain came rushing into the chamber, glancing behind him and then to her more times than she could count in the small distance he covered.

"Majesty," he spluttered, bowing quickly before looking once again behind him and towards the continuing noise.

"Captain, what on earth-?"

"We found something," he gasped.

That he interrupted her started her worrying. He never interrupted her.

"What did you find?"

He looked at her baffled, his mouth opening and closing as if to speak.

"Have it brought in Captain," she finally announced after some moments of spluttering confusion.

"But Majesty, it is not safe," he finally managed to say, his voice gaining the strength it had missed in his earlier shock.

"Send for my husband and have it brought in,"

She had last seen the almost panicking Goblin when he had gone to join the searchers deep in the tunnels and she wanted to know just what they had discovered to send him into such a tizzy.

"Very well majesty," he nodded.

He turned fully from her this time and shouted towards the entrance for the others to enter and for someone to run for Azog.

"If it escapes it will be your heads," he bellowed as the shadows of the other guards entered the chamber, followed closely by the Goblins themselves and –

What was it?

The creature was being supported completely by two Goblins who held the writhing body by the arms, while other guards walked close by, their weapons drawn and ready to use.

Bilbo took an involuntary step back from the group. Or, to be more precise, the struggling, spitting creature.

No.

Much to her surprise it seemed to be making no effort to escape from the less than gentle grips of her Goblins, instead, it was grasping at the only piece of clothing it was wearing – a ragged piece of cloth draped around its sickeningly skinny hips - and a small pouch that hung from that.

"Wants precious," now that her shock had faded she realised that the creature's hisses and splutters were actual words.

"Tricksy precioussss,"

"What is it," she whispered aloud, asking any who could hear her or answer.

"It was tracked through the tunnels to a lake majesty," she glanced away from the creature to her Captain. Had his leathery skin just paled?

"And?" she breathed, not entirely sure she wanted to know if it had affected the hardy Goblin so.

"We were to late to save the fallen,"

She stared at her Captain blankly, trying to puzzle out just what he meant by that. She looked back to the creature who was still calling out for a 'precious' and complaining about 'nasty goblinses'.

It was a strange creature that she had never seen before. It's freakishly large eyes – owlish in their size – occasionally caught the light but she could not make out their colour. What she could make out was nearly every single bone beneath the sickly grey skin stretched over them.

How long had it been since the creature had a decent meal? There couldn't be anything to eat in the tunnels…

Oh no.

Bilbo's stomach turned as she looked back to her Captain, her eyes wide, suddenly realising what he had alluded to – and hoping she was wrong.

"You mean they have been-" she couldn't even bring herself to voice the words.

All of the missing Goblins down the years? The children who had vanished? Had they met the same fate that she suspected those who had fallen from the bridges had?

"Dead majesty," her Captain replied firmly, before gulping and turning his attention back to the…she wished she knew what.

Just how had they been found?

"Preciousssss. Precioussss," the creature was now crooning at the small pouch as he dug around in it.

What exactly was this precious?

"Silence!" the sudden bellowing of her husband's voice made her jump and actually succeeded in stilling the creature for a moment.

Azog stalked to her side, flanked by his men, two of whom he waved to support the Goblins and two more he left at the entrance to the chamber to stand sentry. At the sight of restless bodies just passed the entrance she realised he had come straight from showing the Dwarves to the Wargs and had apparently left the Company in the passage.

She was glad of the extra – and much larger – bodies now present. Despite the creature's skinniness she had no doubt there was a great deal of strength in the wiry frame, but one of her husband's towering Orcs would stop it in its tracks if it managed to escape.

"What is this?"

"The cause of the disappearances, no survivors have been found," she informed him her voice tight.

Her husband snarled.

Whatever hypnotic hold her husband had over the creature shattered as soon as he took a step towards the restrained…thing. The screeching for 'precious' began in earnest and it took up shaking the pouch violently.

It tipped the pouch upside down and gave it a desperate jerk.

A soft tinkling echoed over the hisses and shrieks and its wide eyes fixed, terrified, on the ground.

She followed the gaze to the floor and her eyes quickly found what fascinated it so much.

A gold band was rolling along the floor, catching the torchlight seductively as it fell into dips and grooves in the floor before it spun almost lazily and feel flat onto its side at her feet.

She stared at in in surprise for a moment.

Was this was the creature had been looking for? How curious. Under the circumstances what use would a ring be?

As she leaned to pick it up the room erupted into chaos.

-To Be Continued-

Chapter Text

Chapter 36

With the Dwarves

They had been marched through what felt like miles of tunnels and empty caves until they reached a section of the mountain that led out to an overgrown hollow. It was a strange contrast to go from walking on stone, to moss and then to grass so quickly.

Sun streamed down upon them – a lovely feeling after being so long inside when they had all grown accustomed to being outside constantly during their journey…after all no one had really had the presence of mind to appreciate the outdoors during their escape attempt – it was as though someone had just scooped out a side of the mountain range.

Azog who had stalked ahead of them (leaving them to be guided by the Goblins) was snarling to the large white beast they knew was his Warg. The animal yipped and ducked almost playfully, until its eyes turned on them.

It's whole attitude changed. It ducked low, ears flattening, snarling in a manner that told them they would be its next meal if they got any closer. More than one of them tried to back up only to trip over a Company member crowding in on them from behind to get a better view.

The whole grotto seemed to be swarming with Wargs of all sizes. Some with their heads coming to Azog's shoulders. Others small and lean. Basking in the shadows of trees and bushes.

Orcs too.

They were training with each other, or…was that one sleeping?

It was a shock to all the Dwarves to see these creatures in such a peaceful environment. What other shocks were in stall for them before this journey ended?

The Company stood in the passage like children sent from the school room in disgrace after Azog had gone storming into the Goblin guarded chamber. Other Goblin guards stood about them, no longer as tense or as ready to stab them through the heart with a spear if they sneezed as they had been.

A good thing about an alliance, they supposed, the risk of being killed decreased some.

"Well, I thought the Wargs were almost friendly," Bofur announced, breaking the silence. His usual chipper spirits nearly fully returned thanks to the warm meals they were now receiving more regularly and on a larger scale than during their journey so far.

Scoffing and harsh chuckles erupted from more than one member of the Company at the thought of the giant dogs that they had been forced to meet not many minutes before.

Several of the Company gulped at the thought of having to ride the animals that came a hand – or more - taller than any pony any of them had rode on their journey so far.

"When they're no trying to tear you limb from limb they are like pups, no?" he added, but no one was paying attention now, to busy trying to hear what was happening in the chamber they had been left outside of.

They had been unable to hear anything over the sound of their boots hitting the stone floor and echoing around them but now that they had finally come to a stop the muffled sounds of speaking could be heard from the chamber.

Balin waved at the few who had been paying attention to Bofur and were still speakin to be quiet and strained to hear what was happening. There was some kind of animal in there, he was certain of it.

Just as he thought he was finally able to decipher some words from among the shrieking there came a terrific roar from the chamber. It echoed about them, causing some of the Company to cower away from the noise as it bounced around them.

Multiple snarls and growls now filled the air, the Goblin guards who had been left to watch over them fidgeted uncomfortably, shifting from one bare foot to the other, their knuckles whitening as their grips tightened on spears and torches.

A high scream cut through the animal sounds and seemed to make up the minds of the Goblins.

They ran for the entrance to the room as young Ori whispered in horror.

"That was Bilbo,"

They were unguarded. No one was watching them. There was obviously a mess in the making in the chamber. Now was there time to run and they would not be caught this time. They would make sure of it. No more alliance. No more Goblins or Orcs.

In one moment they looked to one another, silently weighing up their options.

The sounds of struggles and fighting continued in the room.

As one they ran into the fray.

Chaos.

For a moment none of the Company knew just who the enemy was – torches being knocked from their stands and extinguished by treading feet didn't help the matter of identification much either.

During their days of treaty making and planning with Bilbo they had all come to realise – grudgingly – that all of the Goblins were extremely loyal to their queen. The little Hobbit seemed to have them all wrapped around her dainty little finger. The Orcs also displayed a brand of loyalty and obedience none of the Dwarves would ever expect from such a race – but whither that was because of Azog's influence or on her own merit they couldn't tell.

So, they situation they now faced confused the somewhat.

The Goblins were fighting each other, tearing into one another with claws and teeth, drawing blood and ripping flesh in a savage display. Goblins who were not fighting their own kind were ganging up on the hand full of Orcs that had shadowed Azog.

They attacked the much larger creatures in groups. Some hanging from necks and chests – more than one diligent Goblin was gnawing on an Orc leg if there was no room further up the body.

This was not what they had expected to see at all. Had the Orcs turned traitor for the Goblins to be behaving so.

No. There was Azog, his massive ghostly figure towering over even the other Orcs, his teeth bared in a feral snarl, his metal limb shining with blood in the light – the victim lay not three feet away from the Orc leader, clutching at his injury.

Behind Azog was Bilbo, her eyes wide, her face pale, blood running from an injury above her eye, leaving a crimson trail to her chin.

She was injured.

Had that been the cause of the scream that has sent them running blinding into this mess?

All eye turned to Thorin, who with a decisive jerk of his head sent them on their way.

They ducked and weaved through the thrashing bodies, swiping dropped weapons from the ground.

One by one, all armed, they joined Azog in front of Bilbo, lacing themselves between the Queen and the fighting.

It wasn't until they stood facing the commotion that they realised just what was happening. The Orcs – one of them struggling to shake an over eager Goblin from his head – were trying and succeeding slowly in getting closer to Bilbo.

Just what had happened for Azog to be left standing between Bilbo and his Orcs – as well as some of the Goblins?

The Dwarves braced themselves, all anger and animosity put aside for the moment in the in the face of protecting the woman they had travelled with for months from danger.

They were so focused on the struggles in front of them no one noticed the shadow that hugged the wall of the cavern, working its way around the edge of the Company and behind the Hobbit.

Chapter Text

Chapter 37

Bilbo clutched the ring in her hand, the metal strangely cool through the material of her glove. The chamber had erupted with the settling of the ring in her palm.

She had screamed in fright and pain when something had struck her head before she had even been able to get her bearings in the sudden pandemonium. It had sent her spinning to land heavily on the cold stone floor. Which was where she lay now, knee aching where it had struck the ground, her head throbbing. She was sure she was bleeding somewhere. Her head? Her leg? Both?

Bilbo could hardly focus on the form of her husband as he grasped her roughly about the middle and set her on her feet. He turned away from her again after giving her a quick once over, his large hand running gently over her head before taking up a protective stance in front of her. Drawing the dagger he always kept with him and holding it tightly. More than ready to use it.

Bilbo's ears were ringing with the noise in the chamber, snarls and bellows of the Orcs and the high pitched shrieks of the Goblins pulsing through her body and adding to the pain radiating from her head and leg. It was a truly frightening sight. Watching the Orcs and Goblins fights, teeth bared and flesh being torn from bodies. The shadows being cast on the chamber walls by the torches were being made all the more chilling by more than one of the torches being knocked onto the floor, making the black figures shift and jump from wall to ceiling, twisting grotesquely.

Orcs were screeching in anger and pain as Goblins tore into them with hands and teeth when their crude weapons were lost in the scuffle or left in a body.

Azog's terrifying roar cut through the noise, making her wince but silencing no one as the fighting continued unchecked.

"Are you such weak minded fools?" he shouted in Black Speech as he threw a body from him and back into the ever shifting crowd. The flying body sent others tumbling as it collided with Orcs and Goblins who had the misfortune of being in the line of fire. The shrieks became louder from that section of the chamber as bodies tumbled into each other and the floor. Another torch went skittering to the floor sending burning embers dotting about the floor to be trodden on. The furious screams sounded almost animal like in their intensity.

Just what did Azog mean?

Who was weak minded?

Bilbo struggled to stay on her feet, not realising that she had been leaning against her husband for support until he had moved away from her. She watched him as he struck out at a wild eyed Orc with his metal limb. In the blink of an eye the Orc was on the ground, the blood seeping from a gaping wound in his side. Enough to stop him but not kill him she noticed with a foggy sense of relief as the Orc clutched at his open wound and curled in upon himself to protect himself from the trampling feet of the others.

Why was this happening?

"Are you Dwarf filth to be bewitched by a bauble?" Azog insulted his men as he threw another Orc from him, knocking several more Goblins off their feet in the process.

Her poor Goblins, it seemed like they were always getting knocked around through no fault of their own. It wasn't fair.

The brawling continued, her husband's words causing no change.

Her Goblins continued to flood the Orcs, crawling over the large creatures and going for the few soft spots she knew an Orc possessed, and some of them were even tearing at each other.

What on earth…

The broad shoulders of a Dwarf blocked her view of the fighting.

Well that was just typical. Of course they would find their way to wherever there was a mess to be made so they could add their pennies worth to it.

Wait. Where were the guards?

Bilbo shook her head, trying to clear the fog, realising that under the circumstances she was being ridiculous.

Thorin raising his weapon – the dagger looked to simple to be Dwarf crafted – drove several hissing and shrieking Goblins back with the help of Dwalin and Bifur.

Bilbo had no idea what was happening or why but it needed to end this instance.

She glanced around trying to spot her Captain in the confusion when a clammy hand closed around her throat, stopping her breathing in one terrifying second.

The fingers squeezed and she found her eyes rolling as her head was struck against the floor.

How had she even got on the floor? She had been standing a moment ago.

Struggling to breath she looked up into the huge, frightening eyes of the creature that had been brought before her. Its guards no doubt caught up in the fighting.

For a moment, the pressure on her throat relaxed while a weight settled onto her body, pressing down on her chest. She tried to scream but only managed a wheeze, her throat aching violently beneath the painful grip.

It was screeching and spitting above her, its teeth snapping as it spoke garbled words she couldn't understand. The strangely ancient face twisted into an expression of utter loathing.

Its disgusting hand was keeping her on the ground by the renewed grip on her throat, the other hand pawing and hitting at her almost like an enraged toddler as her feet kicked uselessly to try and dislodge it from her body.

The frail looking creature was as strong as an Orc as forced her to stay still.

"Precious!" she managed to understand the one word as the creature's fist struck the side of her head angrily, the pain that bloomed behind her eyes filled her with nausea.

"Precious!" the word was more demanding now as the creature shifted on top of her, a knee striking her hip as it's fist struck at her chest, forcing what little breath she had fully out of her body.

"Precious!" it spat again, shaking her like she was nothing but a doll and it a spoiled child.

She began to beat as hard as she could at its back with her own fists. But it paid her no attention.

She was going to die.

This creature was going to continue squeezing at her throat until there was no point in it letting go.

She renewed her struggle, bucking madly. She succeeded in shifting the creature for a second, just long enough for its grip on her throat to loosen enough for her to drag in a panful breath.

Bilbo turned her head to the side, her vision blurred as she tried to spot familiar figures in the chaos.

She could see his back through her swimming visions. But from her place flat on the floor it was his ever shifting legs that her eyes came to rest on more naturally. Bringing the Dwarves also into her line of sight. All of them were too busy taking care of the fighting going on in front of them none of them even thought to glance behind.

"Ah-g," her husband's name came out as nothing but a gasp as the clammy fingers founds fresh purchase on her throat and her eyes were forced back to meet the creatures.

She was going to die.

She was going to die looking into the hate filled eyes of a being she couldn't even name.

And then, the grip was gone, and the weight was no longer pressing into her chest.

Bilbo rolled onto her stomach and gulped in deep lungs full of air through her aching throat and between rib rattling cough. The release of pressure from her windpipe and weight from her chest feeling heavenly.

She blinked, concentrating all of her attention on the stone floor beneath her. Patterns of colour danced across her vision and she continued to blink until they cleared some and looked to the side.

Her eyes were watering but she could make out the massive figure of her husband not more than three feet away, his weaponised arm was buried as far as it could go into the withered body of her would be murderer.

She gulped back the bile.

It was still alive and looking right at her.

One of its arms was reaching out towards her. Its lips covered in the blood that it was spluttering up.

"Precious…" it gurgled, its eyes so wide they were almost childish.

Her husband withdrew the blades and the creature's entire body went limp.

The sounds of the fighting became a ringing in her ears as Bilbo glanced down at her hands.

One hand was supporting her, palm down on the stone floor, the other was still closed into a fist, her weight resting on her knuckles.

It was the hand the creature's now empty eyes were fixed upon.

Chapter Text

Before Bilbo could concentrate on her tightened fist hard enough to relax her fingers squeals of shock, pain and terror of a different flavour suddenly filled the cavern as a white light lanced through her eyes, blinding her briefly. The accompanying boom caused her ears to ring at a deafening pitch.

The air was knocked out of her as she found herself pressed to the floor, a much larger body covering her own. Shielding her from whatever was happening and preventing any movement.

She began to panic. Shielding her or not, after just surviving an attempted murder she did not like being flattened against the ground no matter what the circumstances were. And then she breathed in. The warm, dry scent of her husband filled her nose and she relaxed despite herself.

He smelled of meat but there was also a hint of the Wargs and the hay used for the animals to sleep in. All in all, the mixture of smells could not be considered a pleasant smell but it set her at ease. It was Azog's smell, after all.

She remained still beneath her husband's bulk, trying to keep her breathing shallow without passing out.

There was no noise.

What had happened? Why wasn't Azog moving? Was he…dead? What had been the light?

The sound that had accompanied the blinding light had sounded similar to a tunnel collapse. Had there been an explosion? Sections of the caves and passages were unstable and undermined by water but surely not the main passages and caverns.

"Azog," she wheezed, trying to move but failing.

"Azog," she gasped, managing to kick her leg out and strike something solid.

"Oh, thank goodness," she muttered, when her husband groaned above her and shifted ever so slightly. Just enough for her to...

Bilbo began to wriggle in earnest.

It took lots of wriggling and at times pummelling of the body above her, but she finally managed to free herself of her husband's bone smashing bulk and she rolled free of him. He slumped into the bag she had left when she managed to escape the prison beneath him.

She blinked up at the ceiling, enjoying just being able to breathe before she looked to the side.

More of the torches had been extinguished and it took her eyes longer than she liked to grow used to the dimmed light.

Bilbo looked around, finally able to make out what was surrounding her.

She couldn't believe her eyes.

No one was standing.

From Orc to Goblin to Dwarf, everyone was on their backs, fronts or sides and groaning in pain.

Well…almost everyone.

She rolled onto her front and dragged herself to her knees. Bilbo squinted as she focused on the figure standing at the entrance to the cave and she couldn't stop the smile that came to her lips and the small ragged chuckle that burst from her despite the circumstances.

Typical. Absolutely typical. Wherever there was trouble she was beginning to count of finding a Dwarf or a Wizard.

She had noticed at Bag End and during their time at Rivendell that for someone so lanky Gandalf had a strange ability to blend into the background if he chose and it seemed that he had succeeded in blending so well as to make his way through the mountain to retrieve his staff. Just how had he known where to find it? Did it give out some sort of call that only he could hear, like a lamb and a yew?

Whatever the cause of his locating his staff, Bilbo had never been so glad of the Wizard's sneaky disposition as Goblins and Orcs continued to groan in pain around the room, their ability to withstand light had increased since she had improved their diets but even the Dwarves were groaning at the discomfort caused by the white light that had filled the room.

From the smug look on Gandalf's face that Bilbo could just make out through the squiggles of colour still dotting her vision and the very purposeful way he was holding his staff she had no doubts as to who and what the source of the light had been.

"Thank you," she whispered hoarsely as the Wizard smiled broadly at her and dipped slightly at the waist.

"My pleasure, Bilbo, my dear," Gandalf entered the cave and picked his way through the shifting bodies on the floor, prodding at more than one with the tip of his staff and smiling when his ill treatment of the body at the other end elicited a louder groan.

Bilbo turned to her husband, rolling her eyes as she did so.

Gandalf it seemed was getting his pay back anyway he could.

She should be angrier at this but she couldn't muster the strength. Besides, in the grand scheme of things, getting a bruise from Gandalf's staff was nothing compared to what they were all doing to each other not even two minutes ago.

Azog was laying on his stomach, his arm bent beneath him – the only thing that had stopped her from being squished beneath his weight – the blades sticking from his other arm shining in the dimness with the blood of the creature.

Bilbo's eyes scoured the floor trying to locate her would-be murderer.

When she did, she wished she hadn't. It was a pitiful sight. The sickly body was now well and truly broken and was laying crumpled against the wall, its neck lolling at a sickening angle.

Had Azog thrown the creature from him before nearly flattening her?

Probably.

She felt the presence of Gandalf at her back and turned to look at him.

"Now my dear," he was looking down at her, his eyes serious, the frown he was wearing aging him,"Just what sent everyone into such a tizzy, hmm?"

He was leaning on his staff, once again the image on an old man who was older than dirt but his eyes twinkling like a tween.

Bilbo glanced to Azog who was still coming round from whatever Gandalf had done and then to the room. There were some moving bodies but the majority of the Orcs and Goblins were still only able to moan.

"A bauble," she whispered to the room, using her husband's chosen word for the ring she was still gripping in her hand.

"Bilbo?"

"Just a bauble," she repeated in confusion, turning her attention back to Gandalf.

She forced her fingers to unclench. It took a long time, convincing her muscles to relax and fingers to flex. Was opening her hand always so difficult?

Her glove was shredded she noted vaguely, the material over the knuckles almost gone completely and the skin broken in places. The stone floor had not been at all kind to the thin skin.

There!

Her hand was open.

And there, in the centre of her palm, was the small gold band.

Gandalf gasped painfully and she looked up to find his face had gone pale. He was in competition with Azog now.

He turned away from her, spinning about desperately, his grey robes swishing about him and tangling with his staff.

He ignored this and she watched with wide eyes as he strode away from her, she watched as he swept one of the few torches still standing from its iron stand and returned to her.

His eyes were burning with an intensity that was almost frightening.

"Gandalf?" she whispered in confusion, desperate to know just what Gandalf thought he knew.

He held the torch down to her.

It was a cast iron bowl atop a thick wooden pole, coals glowed hotly within.

She frowned as he picked up some shredded cloth that had been torn from someone during the fighting and put it into the bowl. It caught light easily.

"Place the ring into the flames, Bilbo," he told her, his voice deathly serious.

Reflexively her fingers closed back around the ring.

"But Gandalf, why on earth-"

"Do as I say, Bilbo Baggins," he told her sternly, "It will do your 'bauble' no damage if it is what I suspect,"

She loosened her tight fist and looked down once again at the ring.

"What you suspect?" she croaked.

"Do as I ask now, Bilbo,"

She looked between the gold band and the man.

Something wasn't right. Why was she so against this? She cared nothing for jewellery or shiny objects. Why now?

As quick as a flash, before she could change her mind, she reached out and dropped the ring into the flames, snatching her hand away and holding it by the wrist to her chest with her other.

She watched wide eyed as Gandalf stared into the flames caused by the burning clothing and then into the dimmer light of the coals.

She was aware of some of the prone bodies beginning to shift more and more, some managing to stand but she ignored them for the moment as Gandalf had her stand to the side and he tipped the torch on its side, sending coals spilling out.

Bilbo shivered as Gandalf leaned over the scattered coals, his eyes focusing on the ring that now seemed to be glowing brighter than any of them.

She leaned in close next to him, careful not to stand on any of the burning embers, her eyes following the now glowing inscription that covered the ring's surfaces as Gandalf read the words.

Her eyes wide she looked to him as he read the last word.

Slowly he turned from the ring and his eyes met hers.

"The One Ring…" she gasped.

Chapter Text

They were in her private chambers. Needless to say, Azog was not happy with the arrangement (not liking the fact that the Dwarves were being made aware of where she slept) but Gandalf had insisted on somewhere secure to speak. By definition her 'rooms' were the safest location in the mountains.

Everyone was silent, standing in a circle about the table where the ring had been placed. Giving it as wide a birth as possible.

After being chastised by her husband…well, if several more injuries being added to already bruised bodies could be considered a chastisement, the Orcs and Goblins from the conflict had been sent off in disgrace to see to their injuries before infection set in. The only Goblin who had insisted on needing no attention from the healers had been her Captain of the Guard, the others slinked away ashamed as soon as they could.

She gulped back the tears at the image of him on his knees before her, holding out the crude dagger he was never seen without.

He had been so ashamed of his actions – actions that she knew had not been his own – he had expected her to use his own weapon to end his life.

Needless to say, that had not happened, and she had sent him from the room to be seen to like the rest.

"Your life if not yours," Azog had bellowed and Bilbo felt sick just at the implication of those words. Would her Captain have brought harm to himself…?

A log falling in the fireplace brought her back to the present.

It was only herself, the Company, Gandalf and Azog who were in the room. No guards were stationed at the entrance of her chamber as they usually were, instead, not trusting anyone who could be influenced by the ring to be so close to her Azog had sent them along the passage to guard the junction that led to it. Better than nothing.

She shivered as she looked at the ring. Innocent in its flawless simplicity and yet so evil. Gandalf had insisted no one else touch the gold band but herself and she had been obliged to carry the wretched thing. She had not trusted herself with it, the way her fingers tightened about it until her knuckles ached and she had all but thrown it onto the small table upon entering her well-lit rooms. She was glad to see that while everything else seemed to have fallen apart the Goblin's in charge of seeing to her chambers had not faltered and the fire was burning as brightly as the torches.

The Company had remained oddly silent during the trip through the passages. Even stranger was the fact that Azog had permitted them to keep their odd assortment of weapons…

"This is grave, indeed," Gandalf broke the silent, his voice sounding worn and old to her ears.

The Dwarves shifted at his words and someone snorted at the understatement. After they had all staggered to their feet Gandalf had hurriedly explained the state of things to them.

Without consciously making the decision to do so Bilbo took a step closer to her husband, her fingers laced together at her stomach she tried to look the picture of calm. She was feeling anything but however.

How long had the ring been in the keeping of that creature?

She remembered the poor body broken and mangled…

"It needs to be destroyed," Gandalf was speaking again, muttering to himself.

Bilbo wondered if he was even aware of their presence in the room anymore.

"Och, well then," Gloin was the first of the Company to make a sound and all eyes turned to him.

He stepped forward, his stolen weapon – an axe – held high above his head.

"Uh," she went to speak, but, before she could he had brought the axe down on the table.

She cringed as the wood of the table splintered and buckled, the legs collapsing under the weight of the sudden attack by axe-wielding-Dwarf.

Bilbo sighed as Gloin flushed in embarrassment under the light. The table was well and truly destroyed, the ring on the other hand was now laying on the floor amongst the splinters.

Not to be bested by a table – one of her favourites… - Gloin took up position over the ring, legs apart, slightly bent he raised the axe again.

She heard a chuckle from Azog and a muttered 'Idiot Dwarf' before the axe once again came down. A high pitched ringing filled the air and Bilbo squealed at the sudden pain that lanced through her head, covering her sensitive ears with her hands. She opened her eyes slowly, after instinctually closing them against the noise.

The ring was still in perfect condition. Not even a scratch to show it had been struck. Gloin on the other hand was being helped up by Dori and being fussed over by his brother. The axe was in pieces, shards of steel littered the floor about the ring.

"Fool!" Gandalf snapped, "Mortal weapons are nothing to the ring. Even your hottest forges would have no effect,"

Gandalf paused in his shouting, running an agitated hand over his face.

"No," he muttered, his hand dropping to his side, "There is only one way…I must speak with the council!" he announced to the room, spinning about to face Bilbo.

"You must keep the ring safe,"

"Me?" her voice was nearly a squeak and Azog came to stand in front of her, snarling angrily at the Wizard.

Bilbo had to lean slightly to the side so she could once again see Gandalf who was facing off against her enraged husband adequately well. He was looking up to meet Azog's eyes unflinchingly as they spat at each other in Black Speech. Gandalf, she noticed was a little rusty but was still managing to keep up with her husbands growled words.

" By wife has no place in your game of power, Wizard!"

"In this 'game'," Gandalf retorted, speaking to him as though he was explaining something complicated to a child, a tone her husband would not take kindly to once he had calmed down enough to notice just how he was being spoken to, "All have a part if we are to prevail,"

And so it continued.

Gandalf saying yes. Azog saying no.

While the argument continued Bilbo allowed her gaze to wonder from the two males. The Dwarves were watching slack jawed, their eyes whipping from one to the other as the shouting continued. Bilbo sighed. It didn't matter if you understood the language or not an argument was still seen as entertainment it would seem. Thorin on the other hand was standing slightly apart from his Company, the customary frown set on his face as he glared, not at the arguing Orc and Wizard, but at the ring. There was a gleam in his eyes that had nothing to do with the light from the torches, she could see the almost violent movement of his chest as he breathed in and out. The man would pass out if he continued that way.

Bilbo finally forced herself to follow Thorin's intense gaze to the ring.

As her eyes met its shining surface words, evil words, began to echo around her mind, and then her mind filled with fire.

Bilbo gasped, stepping back and away from the ring, she could feel the heat, the burning eye seared into her mind.

She looked around in a panic.

Everything was continuing as it had been. How could no one else have felt that? Her husband and Gandalf were still exchanging 'words', now having moved onto insults, the Dwarves were still watching in fascinated wonder and Thorin was still staring at the ring.

What was the ring whispering to him?

How could he keep looking at it?

Suddenly, with a force that would have made her take another step back if she wasn't frozen in place, his eyes, dark and filled with something that made her shiver, shot from the ring to bore into her own.

This was a Thorin she had not seen before. She had seen him furious before and although there was no anger in his face that was the only dark emotion she could liken it to.

She looked back to the still arguing pair and quickly came to a decision.

The ring was dangerous. In no time at all it had sent all the Orcs and Goblins near it into a frenzy. How long until it did the same to the Dwarves? To her?

It had to be dealt with.

All Gandalf wanted her to do was to watch it while he went to do whatever Wizards did in planning to destroy an ancient evil.

"I'll watch it," her words came out in a croak so low that it was apparently heard by no one in the room.

She cleared her throat.

"I will watch it, Gandalf," there, that was more like it.

The arguing immediately stopped and all eyes turned to her, the Dwarves looked a little confused having not understood her words.

Knowing that her husband could understand Common well enough if he out his mind to it she spoke for the Dwarves benefit in the language they would understand.

"I will keep it safe while you return to Rivendell," she knew it would be Rivendell he went to, after all, there had been a council held while the Company had been there and perhaps the others had lingered after Gandalf's departure.

Azog snarled, but thankfully knew better than to try to change her mind.

She met Gandalf's eyes and he nodded his head at her.

Despite the fact that she sometimes didn't trust the Wizard when it came to certain things – as Azog said, Gandalf liked to play 'games', using people as his pieces – she would trust him when it came to this matter. She knew he was an ancient being – far older than the grizzled old man he appeared to be now – and she would not question his decision on the matter of the ring. On many other things yes, but not this.

The Dwarves began to shift, whispering among themselves but a look from Gandalf silenced them.

"I am right on this matter," he snapped, his irritation at the Dwarves seeming to flow from him in waves.

"I shall leave at once," he announced, once again ignoring the Dwarves and looking at Bilbo.

"I will have a guide brought-"

"No need, my dear," he interrupted her, "I found my way here after all, I can find my way back," the smile he shot her was reminiscent of the grin he used to give her as a child. Back when all he was to he was a man with fireworks.

"Very well, Gandalf,"

He leaned in close to her and she heard the snarl beginning to grow in Azog's chest once again, she would have batted him with her hand to stop him if she were near enough.

Gandalf, his weight supported by his staff, whispered into her ear.

"Do not use the ring. Keep it with you but it is to never be on your finger,"

He pulled back from her, his eyes serious, the grin replaced with a frown.

Bilbo gulped and looked to side, her eyes going to the ring where it still sat on the floor.

"I understand Gandalf,"

He nodded solemnly and stood straight.

With a final word to the Dwarves to behave and an assurance that he would return as quickly as he could he was gone.

After a moment or so Azog went trampling after him, grumbling the whole while after she had asked her husband to see he had safe passage out of the range. The last thing they needed was for him to be spotted wondering about alone – again, her mind supplied – and attacked by her guards.

Now she was alone with the Dwarves, she looked between them. None of them seemed to know how to react to what had just transpired.

They weren't the only ones.

"I am sorry, gentleman," she finally spoke, breaking the silence, "It would seem that your journey is to be delayed,"

---To Be Continued---

Chapter Text

After Oin – ever a healer no matter what the circumstances – had insisted on seeing to her head injury under the watchful eye of Azog, Bilbo moved through what remained of the day in a daze. She did the things she knew she should be doing but at the same time felt like it was not her.

"I thank you," she began, as she stepped away from Oin's fusing hands, "For coming to my aid," she looked around the company. All of them still in possession of their weapons – she could hardly have them taken from them now…

The sound of awkward shuffling sounded throughout her chambers and she couldn't help but smile slightly.

Men, she decided, were the same, wither Dwarves or Hobbits or any other race. They could bluster about with the best of them, but when it came to a simple 'thank you' the fall to pieces.

She saw to the Dwarves meal, as well as her own – the whole thing was very stilted, as eyes kept drifting to her and the ring which now hung on a length of twine (dug from her sewing box before leaving her chambers) about her neck and hidden beneath her clothing. Balin spoke of what he knew of the Ring as well as the others that had been crafted so long ago. Which wasn't much.

"We lost much knowledge with the fall of Erebor," his eyes had become old before her, that almost mischievous glint they had held when she had first opened her door to him at Bag End almost gone entirely, "I perhaps do not know as much as I should on this matter,"

After the meal and having given her Goblins – and particularly her Captain of the Guard – enough time to lick their wounds and realise that maybe falling on their swords was not the best course of action to make up for what had happened, she finally convinced Azog that going to see her injured people would not result in all of them once again descending upon her.

"Have you felt anything from it?" she demanded, more than a little frustrated with him for once again baring her way, forgetting to speak in Black Speech in her agitation.

He remained quiet, only glowering at her, looming over her, his face set in a frown that would not lift for some time if she knew her husband.

"That's what I thought," she nearly crowed in victory but held herself back, "Gandalf –" her husband snorted at the mention of the Wizard and she ignored him, "Would have told us if any more danger was to be expected. And whatever he did with his staff seemed to have cleared everybody's heads," except her own.

Bilbo's head was decidedly foggy at the moment and she had been unable to touch any of the food put before her.

"No, I feel nothing," her husband finally deigned to answer, "Ring Bearer," he bowed slightly to her something that set her a little on edge but he moved out of the way and she ignored the feeling of unease in favour of enjoying her small victory.

Her Goblins were all fine. All had swallowed the vile tonic that had been forced down young Kili's neck not many days before and some of the more serious injuries and been bound. Her Goblins were sturdy creatures, and often open lacerations had no need to be tended to other than to be dosed with the Orc potion or given a quick wash with a healing water from Rivendell and Bilbo could not hide how upset she was now that she saw the full extent of some of the injuries in the full light of the healing cave.

They had not even heard of such a thing before her rule…then again they had not heard of a great deal of things before she had taken ownership of the throne. When she had seen the sad state of many of the Goblins – she still felt nauseous at the memory of some of the open boils and sores that had littered their skin – a place of healing had been the first item on her agenda. Then had been how to go about healing them. It had not been something that had been taken care of overnight. It had taken years of hard work on her part and grudging acceptance on the part of her Goblins but soon all within her care were heathy…well, as healthy as was possible.

She had set up trade with Rivendell. Bilbo would be forever grateful for the help Lord Elrond had been willing to give and the trust he had shown her.

Within her mountain were veins of stone and crystal used by the Elves in their building, crafts and even some in their healing. Within Rivendell had been the herbs and lotions she needed to begin the arduous task of seeing her new people to full health as well as food to expand their diets which were sadly lacking.

And so, trade was agreed upon.

It was hard to believe that so much had come from that simple agreement.

Instead of having nothing to do but fight amongst themselves – Bilbo was ashamed to admit that her forbearers had not been active 'rulers', choosing to have as little to do with the Misty Mountains as they could – or waylay travellers through the mountain paths, they now had work. Of course even with all these measures in place her Goblins were little devils at times and still enjoyed the thrill they received when unsuspecting characters fell into their traps…like when the Company had tumbled through the elaborate trap door – her Goblins were rather ingenious when it came to some things it had to be said.

She had accepted early on – perhaps earlier than she should have – that some things could not be changed no matter how hard she tried. Goblins were Goblin. A long ago descendent of Orcs, and although she had their loyalty and their love – earned through her blood, sweat and tears – she could not change their natures. But thankfully most of the time their attention turned more towards trouble making of late – although she couldn't help but wonder what she would have found done to the Dwarves upon her return if she had not been their when they were captured…

Her Goblins seen to and forgiven, after nearly all of them threw themselves on the floor and begged for her pardon, she left the healing cave and paused suddenly. Her mind jumping from the bloodied forms of her Goblins to another blood soaked corpse.

"The Creature," she gasped, a hand going to her mouth.

How stupid could she had been to forget about the broken body still laying crumpled up in the –

" It has been destroyed, wife,"

Her eyes shot to her husband's form at her side.

"I ordered it taken out and burned," he told her matter of factly.

Not knowing what else to say, and grateful for him not having the poor emaciated body burned anywhere within her Mountains, she thanked him, leaning slightly into his body, her head resting against his leg as she allowed herself to sag slightly.

It seemed that since the Dwarves had come into her life there had been no rest, no peace. Always there was something going wrong. Always there was a disaster looming over their heads.

And now this ring.

But no. She should see the appearance of the Ring as a boon. Darkness had been building, all the cursed creatures journeying towards it, and now there was the chance for them to see it gone. Destroyed forever.

But there was nothing she could do about that now. Such plans were in Gandalf's domain at the moment.

She straightened from her husband. Realising only once the weight slipped from her head that his huge fingers had been twisting through her hair.

She looked up at him and smiled, taking the hand that had been in her hair and squeezing it in her own.

She pulled on him slightly – not that she would ever be able to make him move from a spot if he had no wish to go anywhere – and he huffed out a breath but followed her none the less.

She could do nothing with the Ring other than to watch over it as Gandalf had told her – and to put up with the incessant buzzing it seemed to be creating in her head. She knew nothing of how such a thing was to be dealt with, all she knew what that it was more than capable of looking after itself, a thought that chilled her to the bone. But she could continue in her planning for the journey to the lonely mountain.

" How did the Dwarves get on with the Wargs, husband,"

"And what ultimatum do we offer Smaug?" Bilbo was exhausted and she couldn't help but collapse onto the animal pelts piled in front of her fire.

She had been speaking over the matter of The Lonely Mountain with her husband for some hours now, throwing herself into thoughts of something other than Gandalf and the reason for his absence.

She stared sleepily into the flickering flames. It seemed like days since she had slept. Perhaps it had been days, she had lost all grip of time after the creature had been brought before her. Everything had happened so quickly and time was easy to lose at the best of time in the endless blackness of the caves.

Her mind finally began to slow down and thoughts became fuzzy in her head. She was grateful for it. At long last the excitement of the day was fading from her blood.

She could hear Azog moving around behind her…was he pacing? It was a possibility but she was too tired to turn around and check or to even attempt to calm him herself. Her husband had been growing more agitated as the conversation progressed and now with the mention of the dragon he seemed to have given up all pretence of hiding it.

She looked deeper into the flames until her eyes began to water. The calling in her mind, a dim buzzing as she had gone about her duties, was now becoming stronger. A whisper she couldn't decipher but her body knew the meaning to.

And suddenly, without her permission or knowledge, the ring was in front of her, dangling from the twine and spinning slightly. Catching the firelight seductively.

Had she taken it from its place about her neck? She must had done. But she couldn't remember doing so.

It whispered to her in a language a normal Hobbit from the shire should not understand.

It whispered of power. Invincibility. The chance to keep her people safe no matter the decisions of the other races. of –

"Wife!" Azog's voice snapped her out of whatever spell she was under and she threw the ring from her, it landed on the pelt, sinking into the thick hair, but still it glittered in the firelight.

She crawled back from it until her back hit her husband's legs. She wanted nothing to do with the destructive gold band. What where people about making evil jewellery anyway? A simple gold band had no business prying into her mind and making her think things that she did not want to. It had no business turning her thoughts inside out and upside down. It didn't! And how dare Gandalf leave her with it.

How could she ever have thought she could shoulder such a responsibility?

"I can't do this," she whispered to herself, desperately shaking her head from side to side, ridding her mind of the last webs of the evil influence.

"I'm just a Hobbit," she clutched at her head, ashamed of herself, she had only been in possession of the ring for one night and already she was failing.

She was blind and deaf to her husband coaxing her in his rough and threatening manner to her feet and walking to the bed, far away from the innocent looking gold band in front of the fire.

She lay down, following his prodding like a sleepy child obeyed their parents.

"You are a Queen. You are strong," he spat the guttural words at her, and she tried to be reassured. So much had happened. First with the Dwarves and now this… What if the allies Gandalf thought to call upon did not come through. What if the Council had no idea how to proceed with matters? What if-

"You lead creatures who have known only darkness," Azog had not joined her in the bed but was looming over her, to a stranger the tone and posture would appear threatening but she knew he was trying to boost her spirits and confidence in his own way – as she would not allow anymore grotesque bouquets to be brought to her he had to settle with what he had. And at the moment it was words.

" If anyone has the strength to bear this burden it is you,"

Bilbo looked into his unsmiling, scarred face with tears of gratitude shining in her eyes, tears that she could not quite keep from burning behind her eyes but she was succeeding in keeping from falling. He had faith in her, faith that she could achieve what others, much stronger and bolder than her had failed to do.

She smiled up at her morose husband.

In this one moment there was no one else whose confidence she would rather have.

-To Be Continued-

Chapter Text

"What do we do about Smaug?" Bilbo had awoken gritty eyed and tired, but had forced herself to join the others for breakfast after dressing and reluctantly recovering the ring from in front of the fireplace. It now sat tucked beneath her gown but over her shift – she had not been able to face having the despicable thing touching her skin, her stomach had rolled at the very thought of it, but she also did not trust to have it in her pocket. She remembered how the creature had clawed madly to find it, only for the Ring to fall from its pouch. She would not risk it.

The Dwarves, not understanding what she was saying to her husband, offered her a cursory glance before returning to their own breakfasts and whispered conversations. Thorin's dark eyes settled upon her for longer and flicked to her husband for a moment before returning his attention to Balin.

"Offer him Thorin Oakenshield on a spit," Azog snarled between ripping some sort of unrecognizable meat, barely cooked, from a bone and glaring at the Dwarf.

Bilbo set down her knife and fork – there was no use in tempting herself with the thought of stabbing her husband in his one fully functioning arm – and took a calming sip of her tea. Another thing she had trade with Rivendell to be grateful for.

"Azog-" she began only to have her husband chuckle darkly at her reaction as he chewed on his meat.

The swine!

She tried to kick him beneath the table but failed miserably. Cursing her legs for not being long enough she took another sip of her tea. The calming brew settling her with each whiff of the fragrant steam.

"No doubt you wish to…negotiate," Azog spat the last word, it held very little meaning for him after so many years. The only negotiating tactics he had ever employed over the majority of his life included chopping off the heads of his enemies and intimidating his allies into not being enemies by showing them the said heads.

Bilbo ignored his tone and nodded her head. Yes, she would negotiate with Smaug if she could. Offer him the chance to side with them. Ask him to vacate the mountain and give the Dwarves their rightful home back. The thing that concerned her was if he said no. Well, she didn't want to think about what would happen if he said no along with a stream of fire. What if he sneezed? Or belched? Did dragons do either of those things? And if they did could it lead to an accidental breath of fire?

Now you are just getting ridiculous Bilbo Baggins, she chastised herself, and forced herself to think about that would happen if he did say no.

Would they kill him?

Or more likely would he kill them?

Was it even possible to kill him?

By all accounts he was a massive beast and to get to that size he must have lived a long ti-

She paused in her thoughts and looked to her husband with narrowed eyes.

Surely he wouldn't…no surely not.

But then again it was just the sort of thing Azog would keep to himself. Not out of any maliciousness she was sure but just because he wouldn't think to bring it up.

"Husband?" he looked up at her from the meat in his hand, still chewing. Bilbo was aware of the already hushed conversation around the table becoming all but mute as eyes tried to glance between Azog and herself without being noticed. They were failing. Terribly. She ignored them. She must be more tired than she though if she kept slipping into common all the time.

"You would not have had an…acquaintance with Smaug at any time, would you?" she continued, deciding that as it – in a way – concerned the Dwarves she may as well continue with the language they would understand.

He continued to chew his food and she continued to look at him. She didn't know if a previous…friendship, no, not that, would do them any good where the dragon was concerned or not. What if Azog had made an enemy of him through the years? How wonderful that would be…

"His kin," her husband finally answered, still chewing – had he slipped another mouthful of meat while she blinked? She had never known him to chew so much.

"His kin…" she mumbled, raising an eyebrow at this simple answer but her husband had nothing else to say.

She sighed, trying to remember what she had read of dragons. Not much. But then she had never dreamed she would have to face one. If she knew that one day she would be marching towards one she would have made sure to know everything there was to know…the same could be said about a certain ring too.

The Dwarves, realising that nothing else was going to be said between herself and her husband on the matter of dragon friendships, went back to their own hushed conversations.

If Smaug had attained the size he had he would have to be old, and as he was old be must have lived through more than one attempt to end his life.

If they could not kill him could them keep him still?

What did they have that could possibly hold a dragon. It wasn't like rope could do the trick, the rope holding together the bridges hadn't even been able to hold up against thirteen irked Dwarves, what chance did it have against a massive serpant the size of a –

Rope.

The strongest rope she knew existed was –

She waved one of the waiting Goblins over desperately, nearly spilling her tea all over her half eaten breakfast.

The Dwarves gapped at her, no doubt thinking she had lost her mind. While she was sure there was every chance of this happening in the future, at the moment she was still in full possession of her faculties.

Her husband continued to rip at his food and study her with narrowed eyes. Maybe he too was thinking the strain had finally gotten to her.

"Send me a messenger, I need a message delivered to Rivendell before Gandalf leaves the valley,"

The fastest messenger was dispatched – one who knew the tunnels and ways well as he was often sent with agreements and samples to Lord Elrond. That done all Bilbo could do was wait.

Waiting was not Bilbo's strong suit.

So she made plans.

She summoned her Captain of the Guard - who had recovered somewhat from the day before - and the various heads of the different factions of her army – and army that had not been put to its full use (well…any use) since the battle of the Green Fields but was kept at a constant state of readiness. Bilbo still found it hard to believe that she had an army at her command.

Knowing no other way to approach things other than to tell the truth, Bilbo was painfully honest with her Goblins as they stood before her and her husband, their back as straight as they could manage and their hand resting upon the weapon at their sides in the same manner she was accustomed to her Captain standing.

"I do not know what the plans are or how they end and what they will lead to but everyone should be alert and ready to travel," she told them steadily.

Much to her surprise, they seemed excited at the prospect of a battle, each swearing that the Goblins under their command would be ready should the call to arms come.

They would follow her into battle.

Bilbo felt the weight of the ring around her neck.

She hoped that with the destruction of the gold bauble all battles would be avoided. After all, there would be nothing…no one for the beings and creatures to flock to.

Would there?

"Mistress, we is coming to," Bilbo was going to kill whoever had let slip to the trolls about a potential 'something' being in the air.

She had journey through the caverns to her Trolls home to explain the lay of the land to them, only to find out that they already seemed to have received some word from above.

She had to hop out of the way of an over eager foot belonging to one of the boys who seemed more than ready to set off for battle this very moment.

Honestly what was it about Goblins and Trolls that they were so ready for a battle all of a sudden? What was so wrong about a little bit of peace and quiet? And don't even get her started on her rotten husband and his Orcs...

"We's is as brave as any smelly Goblin and we's can flatten anyone who comes near," the youngest demonstrated this by forming a fist with one hand and bringing it down hard against a rock. The rock broke in half and then became smaller and smaller as he went about it with gusto, his brothers joining in keenly with cries of victory at the defeat of the rock when it was nothing but gravel and dust.

Bilbo pinched the bridge of her nose. This was not her day at all.

The trolls were looking at her, there stony coloured skin covered in the white dust from the boulder they had just 'killed stone dead', so to speak.

Bilbo sighed as she patted down her gown, sending up a small cloud of rock dust.

Alright, let's try this again shall we.

Bilbo opened her mouth and began to explain…again.

---To Be Continued---

Chapter Text

The days – no more than a handful – that Bilbo was forced to wait for Gandalf's return from Rivendell were torturous.

She had to keep herself as busy as possible to keep the whispers of the ring at bay but when she slept she dreamt of a burning eye.

During the day she continued to make plans for the journey to Erebor, which she knew would happen as soon as Gandalf had dealt with the current problem at hand and so she knew that even though there may be a delay there would no avoiding going through Mirkwood eventually.

"It is vital that you stick to the path," she told the Dwarves, "The air in that forest is sick," she shivered at the thought of it, "It will muddle your mind and should you become lost you may never come back out again,"

It was true that her husband's Orcs did anything but stick to the path, and she would leave it to their own judgement whither straying from the road would be wisest.

"The Orcs," she continued, "Are familiar with the Wood," she thought it better to inform them that if their guides did stray from the path it would not be an attempt to kill them by leaving them somewhere they could not find their way back from…well, it had better not be. If she sent thirteen Dwarves into the trees she had better get thirteen out the other end, "And may judge it best to bypass the path at some times, but they will find their way back to it do not fear,"

This stern warning got her nods of grudging agreement and a stony eyed glare from Thorin. Honestly, to say the man had assisted in saving her life not many days before he had swung back to his old attitude almost immediately. It was enough to make a Hobbit dizzy.

That out of the way she answered as many questions – with the reluctant help of her husband – about the coming journey as she could. And no, the Wargs would not allow them to ride alone upon them. Her husband's dark chuckle told her he would very much like to see them try though.

Finally after six days of his absence, news reached her from the mountain watches that Gandalf was returning, and he wasn't alone.

As was to be expected, Azog snarled at the sight of Lord Elrond striding over the bridge, his proud Elven frame tall and straight as he walked unflinching despite Azog's reaction being loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Elf," he spat, his body so tense she could almost feel the vibration of it through her arm where he stood at her side.

Honestly. How her husband maintained the energy to hate absolutely everyone she would never know.

Gandalf was leading the way over the bridge with Elrond behind him and she noticed quickly rhat it was not just the two of them and their Goblin escorts.

Several other Elves bearing sacks followed behind them, some holding just one sack, others heaving two – one over each shoulder. Despite their almost ethereal appearance Elves were as strong as any other race but it still seemed strange to see that with her own eyes.

They stepped onto the platform and she stood from her throne to welcome them all to her realm, as was her duty.

"Welcome back Gandalf," the wizard nodded long and low at her.

"Lord Elrond, I believe this is your first visit to my…kingdom," she smiled at him as he dipped into a low bow.

She glanced to the side and saw Azog's chest puffing out like a peacock, obviously pleased at the deference being shown to her by the Elf Lord. He was still snarling low though, his sharp teeth bared in a warning.

She stole a look at the Elves accompanying Elrond and saw that their eyes were wide and slightly nervous as they took in the watching Goblins who lined the cavern and then the massive Orc at her side. But they remained calm, their backs straight as poles.

Bilbo was glad that their arms were filled or she would have been worrying about one of them drawing a sword. Of course, he would be dead before he had the opportunity to decide on who to use it against. Elves may be quick, but a swarm of Goblins or an enraged Orc would not waste time with finesse…or even a weapon…

"We received your message, Your Majesty," Elrond gestured to the Elves behind him, "Although why so much of our rope is needed we cannot fathom," he trailed off and glanced around the cavern, his eyes focusing in on the many walkways and pullies that allowed easy travel about the giant cave, "Although, perhaps I now see why it was required,"

She laughed at this and shook her head. Although after the mess the Dwarves had made during their escape attempt she may well try to replace the plain old ropes currently in use with something a little less destructible.

"You must be hungry," she stepped down from her throne, "Come, a meal will be readied immediately and we will talk after,"

"Smaug!" Elrond nearly chocked on his after-dinner wine as she explained her idea.

She nodded her head.

"Yes, do you think it would work?"

Gandalf was sitting puffing quietly on his pipe while the Dwarves tried their best to make a dent in her ale stocks.

"Bilbo Baggins!" Bofur cheered, raising his tankard and spilling some ale onto the table, "Troll tamer and Dragon rider," he crowed, some of the others taking up the cheer, the ale and several days of planning having set them somewhat at their ease once again in her presence - despite the presence of Azog.

"I assure you I have no desire to ride a dragon, merely to…inconvenience it if possible,"

"You want to ground the dragon and tie its wings," Gandalf had removed the pipe from his mouth and was nodding his head thoughtfully at the idea, "It may work. Elven rope is stronger and would have more chance than anything else to hold the Dragon,"

"But first you want to bargain with him," sneered Thorin from the other end of the table – as far away as he could get from Azog (a distance he would be grateful off if he let his mouth run away with him she was sure).

"Not bargain. I have nothing to offer him," she corrected, "More an…ultimatum,"

"Leave or die, I believe?" Elrond spoke, smiling slightly at her in honest amusement.

She couldn't blame him. Her idea was tantamount to scolding a child and no doubt sounded ridiculous. 'Now give your brother back his toy or go to bed without your supper,'.

"Well," Balin spoke up finally after doing nothing but listening, "It is a better plan than any,"

That was not very reassuring.

"So the Hobbit will go into the mountain," Thoron really had to pay more attention to what he allowed to come out of his moth, 'the Hobbit,' indeed, "Ask Smaug to kindly remove himself and then what? When he says no ask him to stay still while she ties up his wings?" he scoffed.

"I can still offer you his beard, wife," Azog growled and she didn't need to look at him to know that he was scraping his dagger against his 'arm' in a threatening manner. She could hear plainly the metallic slink of the blade meeting the spikes.

"Maybe later," she snarled as a reply and a dry chuckle was her reward.

"I will not be entering the Mountain alone," and if any of them thought she would be doing that they were insane.

Gandalf may have thought her smell would be unknown to the Dragon but that did not mean she had no scent at all. She was more than likely to catch his attention as an oddity if nothing else.

"Fools," Azog mumbled, the slinking of the metal still audible to all.

"Myself and a chosen few will enter the mountain and –"she trailed of, her unspoken words easy enough to guess.

They would either live or they would die. Simple as that.

"Very well," Gandalf cleared his throat after a few minutes of silence, "As Balin said, it is better than entering the Mountain with no plan at all,"

There were several grumbled agreements as this.

Just what had they planned to do upon reaching Erebor anyway? Push her in the door with a 'good luck'?

"Now onto more pressing matters. Bilbo my dear, Lord Elrond and I have had time to think of the best course of action regarding the Ring, and with your consent we believe we have a solution,"

Azog ceased with his intimidation tactics and everyone looked to Gandalf. The Wizard was sitting calmly as always, his pipe smoking lazily in his hand.

"It is much to ask of you, Bilbo," Lord Elrond stepped in now when Gandalf had not spoken for a few moments, casting an exasperated glance at the Wizard, "But you have shown an amazing resilience against the power of the ring. We ask that you bear it but a while longer," Lord Elrond appeared to be genuinely troubled by what he was asking her to do, his eyes creasing with concern and worry.

Bilbo gulped. She didn't want this foul thing around her neck any longer, one part of her was itching to rip it from her neck and throw it far from her while the other wanted to hold it close and never let it go.

' Precious' indeed.

She shivered at the memory of the writhing desperate creature who was responsible for all of this.

"Gandalf has called upon some allies of his who he hopes will be able to take you to the one place where it can be destroyed completely,"

Bilbo was not going to like this. She could tell by the way Azog suddenly tensed and a snarl began to rumble from him.

"Mount Doom,"

"What," she squealed, she was right, she didn't like it at all, "That is half way across middle earth, there is no possible way I could travel that distance and back again before the opportunity to access Erebor has passed. It is impossible," And all the time she would have to carry the ring… Already it felt like a weight resting on her chest. She couldn't do it. Could she trust herself that long to ignore the whispers? Amazing resilience! Bah!

"Calm Bilbo," Gandalf urged her, leaning over the table towards her, his old face appearing worried at her reaction.

She supposed she had remained calm in the face of what he would see as far worse things but she couldn't do that at the moment.

This was the One Ring they were discussing.

Calm! Calm? How was she expected to be calm?

"It is not entirely true that it is impossible for you to reach there in time," Gandalf spoke softly, looking her in the eye, forcing her to focus on something other than her rushing thoughts.

"Oh really," she couldn't keep the sarcasm from her voice, "Do you have a magic spell to make me travel a thousand miles in a day, Gandalf?"

"No," he chuckled. Curse him, he even had to find her words amusing. Wretched man! What on earth could her mother have liked about him? "But I may have some Eagles,"

Eagles. Was this some kind of jo-

No. He couldn't be series.

He was smiling proudly at her. Like he had just performed a trick so splendid he could never hope to match it.

Yes, he was being serious. Deadly so.

"Eagles?" Thorin questioned, "What use could a bird be?"

Some of the other Dwarves chuckled at the mere idea.

Birds. These were no mere birds.

These were Great Eagles. And he expected her to fly all the way to Mordor on the back of one if she were any judge.

Bilbo felt sick just thinking about it.

The weight of the ring made up her mind however.

She would fly ten times around Middle Earth if it would rid her of the Ring sooner rather than later.

---To Be Continued---

Chapter Text

Bilbo felt as though she were standing in the middle of a storm with the wind and rain lashing about her, stealing her breath and causing her to loose all sense of balance and place as more plans were weaved.

Despite the seemingly endless hours of planning there was still nowhere near enough of it for her peace of mind. Like everything else about the journey so far the destruction of the One Ring seemed to be a little…wishy washy in her opinion.

Sadly though there was nothing else that could really be done about it, as at the end of the day they didn't know what the flight – she felt sick at the thought – would be like.

They all knew that the darkness was growing in strength, but as her mountain had not been swarmed by the enemy it was obvious the location of the ring was unknown and indeed had been unknown for countless years. She had been fitted for armour, thick leather to protect her should they be attacked… they just did not know what awaited her.

Gandalf had taken to vanishing every few hours and according to those on watch he would pace the edge of the cliff where Azog had dragged the Dwarves back from during their failed escape attempt. The Wizard did nothing but scan the sky and squint at the sun. Waiting…watching.

Bilbo's stomach flipped.

Waiting for the eagles. Watching for the mighty birds to appear on the horizon.

Bilbo was fretting behind closed doors.

She knew she was fretting, she was twining her hands together continuously before her and building herself up to a decent sized panic as she thought of what was to come.

"What is wrong with walking!" she was ranting to Azog who was watching her pacing with great amusement as he drank his tankard of ale.

"The Dwarves don't want me along anymore – not that they ever did mind you," she stopped ringing her hands to wave them about instead, pointing at the entrance to her chambers to indicate the Dwarves and then stabbing her finger towards her grinning husband. Oh how she hated him at this moment!

"It would be a long walk but that is just what Hobbits are good at," she continued, turning about to begin her pacing in the other direction. She tripped several times over the furs and skins before the fire but after righting herself with a huff each time she continued on without interruption.

"Hobbits," she stopped now to face her husband full on and stamped her foot, "Do not. Fly!" she very nearly squealed the last word in her panic and suddenly all the breath was out of her and her body refused to allow her to draw anymore into her chest.

Destroy the cursed ring. Fine, she could do that. But now after almost two days of planning the thought of flying had finally sunk into her mind and she just couldn't quite get her mind around it. The thought of having the ground so far beneath her feet was utterly terrifying.

"Perhaps the eagles will rid me of you for ever, wife," Azog spoke almost lazily compared to her own panic.

Bilbo felt a hysterical giggle rise through her as she punched ineffectively at her husband's massive arm. He didn't even flinch.

"It will not be that easy, husband," she snarled back at him only just managing to swallow back her bubbling hysteria as she stepped over to the side table and swept up her glass of wine. She took a deep sip of it.

"Aye, wife," she heard Azog shift behind her until he was at her side and she naturally leaned against him, feeling the warmth of him through her clothing. It was a comfort she had grown used to through time and his proximity worked its magic now, calming her breathing and slowing her heart, "You will live a while longer yet," he almost crooned above her head.

She chuckled slightly. The worry of the coming flight seeping from her slightly as she fell into the bantering.

She knew that to many her husbands way of speaking to her at times would be…troubling…but to her it was a reminder of many things. She had his loyalty and every day she was reminded that he could snuff out her existence as easily as she would a candle. But he did not. And so his ocassional death threats were a reminder of this. That although he could. He would not.

"Unless you fall into the mountain along with the ring,"

"Hush, you,"

Bilbo felt a headache coming on.

She could feel it building just at the top of her nose and pressing behind her eyes.

Azog was shouting. Loudly.

Her husband only had one volume when it came to displaying his anger towards Gandalf... Bellowing. And even that was putting it mildly.

It was obvious that Gandalf had thought Azog was joking when her husband had first told the Wizard that he too would be accompanying her during her task.

The amusement had rapidly fled from Gandalf's eyes however when he had realised her husband was being painfully serious in his plans.

"That will not be possible," Gandalf had told her husband soberly.

And that had been when the row had broken out. In fact it seemed like even her Captain of the Guard was getting in on the topic, snarling guttery at one of Elrond's Elfs.

Thankfully the Dwarves - having no idea what was actually going on, with only understanding on side of the conversation - where not making matters worse byt showing ay amusement. The only thing they were showing now was confusion.

Bilbo had to admit that she had taken it for granted that her husband would be coming along with her but now that Gandalf was making all too clear that that was not an option she felt strangely empty. Of course she would see why that would not be an option now that Gandalf had mentioned it but still...

Azog continued to snarl and spit at Gandalf and poor Elrond once he joined in with a failed attempt to defuse the situation. Gandalf and Elrond remained rather calm for the circumstances, shouting only to be heard and telling him - basically - that there was no way on Middle Earth that an Eagle would allow an Orc to ride it, no matter whose husband he was.

Bilbo pinch the top of her nose and sighed.

Honestly. What next.

Later with the Dwarves

"We will play the part,"

The Company looked wide eyes at their king, trying to take in what he was asking them to do. The notion sitting right with none of them.

"You wish us to be ready to betray, Bilbo?" Nori was sitting by the fire, twirling a crudely forges dagger between his fingers, his eyes focusing on the way the blade still caught the firelight despite of its dullness. Goblin crafted blades…terribly made really.

"She is the wife of Azog!" Thorin snarled towards the thief.

"And the queen of the Goblin race," Nori countered calmly.

Balin chose this moment to step in before the thief could antagonize Thorin any more than he was.

"And the one, fate has chosen to bear the burden of the ring,"

Thorin scoffed at the mention of the ring and the others began to shift nervously at the mention of it.

"Uncle, she is willing to form as alliance," Fili spoke carefully, not at all comfortable with questioning his uncle's decisions but feeling the need to, "Betraying her would-"

"Silence!"

Kili nearly leapt out of his skin at his brother's side as his uncles voice reverberated about the cavern. He had seen his uncle like this only a handful of times since he was old enough to remember such things and he knew that there would be no changing his uncle's mind until his uncle wished it. In other words his uncle would come around on his own or not at all.

"We will be journeying through the forest of Mirkwood, it will be easy enough for us to lose our…escorts," he snarled the last word.

"So while the lass risks her life to destroy the one thing that endangers us all, you will have us break our word to her," this time it was Dori who had stepped forward, the usually docile Dwarf's face was flushing red with his rising ire.

It was true that they all felt a certain trepidation in their dealings with Bilbo but it was plain to see that she was a strong leader and she had treated them well.

""I would have you honour the vow you made to me," Thorin hissed, his hard eyes piercing into each of them one at a time until they could not meet his gaze.

"But uncle, she had told us how dangerous it would be for us to-"

"I said silence!"

"But uncle-"

"What danger do trees and plants hold for us when we travel to face a dragon," Thorin snarled.

Their king's mind was decided.

In Mirkwood they would run.

---To Be Continued---

Chapter Text

It took a day or two but her husband finally came round to the idea that there was no possibility of his accompanying her on eagle back to destroy the ring - well, reluctantly shoved towards understanding was perhaps a better way of putting it.

Bilbo tried to hide how uncomfortable she was with it. She did not want to be alone on the journey and when she had mentioned it to Elrond when in the company of Gandalf both of them had informed her that it was the only option open to them.

"I know that the Dwarves wish to begin their journey to Mirkwood," she spoke softly, not wishing her husbands keen hearing to pick up on her anxiety, she was so desperate that she had considered asking one of the Dwarves to come with her until she had given it some thought that was, "and I do not think they would wish to come with me, but the Eagles are your friends aren't they Gandalf? Could you or Lord Elrond not accompany me?"

The Elf Lord and the Wizard exchanged looks before Elrond spoke, his eyes filled with regret.

Bilbo's heart sank like a stone in the Brandywine. They would not be coming with her.

"Our paths lead a different way,"

Of course they did.

It was one of the rare occasions that Gandalf was no pacing the cliff edge and he was taking the opportunity to go over the plan once again.

"The Ring can only be destroyed by the fire that forged it. It must be thrown into the fire of the mountain,"

"I know Gandalf," Bilbo spoke tiredly.

"The Eagles will get you close enough, do not fear on that account,"

Bilbo simply nodded her head - which was aching - and took another sip of her tea while Gandalf blew smoke rings.

"The Orcs are still willing to escort the Company through the Wood?" he finally spoke.

Bilbo chuckled. Willing wasn't the word she would use. But they would do it.

"It will be done,"

"Very well, then they can still begin their journey,"

"They are here, Bilbo," Gandalf walked up to the table and all talking stopped and more than one set of cutlery hit a plate.

The afternoon meal had just ground to a halt and Bilbo forced herself to swallow the food that had just turned to paper in her mouth.

"Excuse me," she spoke out of habit to the Dwarves at the table and walked towards Gandalf, "I shall be ready as quickly as I can, Gandalf,"

"Very good, Bilbo. They wish to be away as soon as possible," Gandalf cast a look at her Orc shadow as an explanation and she nodded her head in understanding.

Azog stood to the side and simply watched as she readied herself.

Her gown was replaced with clothes similar to those she had worn from Bag End and her hair braided tightly and pinned into a bun. She stopped herself form looking into the bag that had been sitting backed since a few days before and only opened it long enough to put in the food that was delivered by a Goblin.

"Come wife,"

Bilbo started slightly, so lost in her thoughts that she had almost forgotten about her husband with his silence.

He was standing holding the 'armour' that had been swiftly made for her.

This was really happening.

Bilbo stepped towards Azog and stood still as he effortlessly - despite his missing arm - slotted the leather pieces together and then held them in place while she laced them - "Tightly wife" - in place. he had her move her arm and bend to insure that her movement was not constricted and then he stepped away from her.

"Your time has come, ringbearer,"

It burned against her skin.

Bilbo had to press herself against her husband's firmly planted bulk or risk being blown over by the force of the flapping wings of the giant bird as it came into land. She had to close her eyes against the clouds of ash - left scattered upon the now treeless cliff side thanks to the fire caused by Gandalf - the batting wings forced into the air as the Eagle hovered almost delicately above the ground before dropping down.

Only when she was certain that all wing flapping had stopped and that she would not be blinded did she slowly open her eyes, blinking violently to clear them of the grit that had made it onto her lashes.

Her visions cleared Bilbo looked up…and up…and up…until, finally, her eyes met those of one of the Great Eagles.

Bilbo, in a show of bad manners that would have had her on the receiving end of her mothers sharp tongue, couldn't stop her mouth from dropping open in her honest shock at what she was seeing.

She had read of the Eagles of Manwe. Of course she had. As a child anything out of the dull tedium of the Shire had fascinated her, but the tales and descriptions in the pages of her mother's books didn't even touch on the magnificence of the being before her.

Each glistening feather looked to be the length of her arm, smooth and as water resistant as any duck she was sure, each feather lay flush and shining against it's neighbor.

Talon the size and sharpness as any Dwarven blade were bighting into the ground and it stood taller than her husband…taller even than Golfimbul who she had left fretting on the throne platform.

But it was the eyes…these were no animal eyes looking into her own. They held an intelligence that rivaled any Warg. These eyes…well, it was as though she was meeting the gaze of any hobbit or Dwarf…or wizard. Yes, this was no mear animal.

"…Lord of the Eagles,"

Bilbo flushed to realise that she had been so busy gawping that she hadn't heard Gandalf introducing her to the eagle who now let out a loud screech, head tilting up and deadly beak open.

Bilbo stepped away from the reassuring steadiness of her husband's leg and dipped slightly at her knees, her eyes never leaving those of the Eagle.

"I thank you for your willingness to help us, My Lord," she was proud of the strength of her voice in the face of yet another marvel.

The Eagle looked down at her, studying her, and then he nodded his head slowly at her, shrieking loudly.

No time was wasted in her being boosted onto the back of the Eagle by her husband. Gandalf had originally reached for her but had been been growled away by Azog.

"Now my dear," Gandalf began once Azog had deposited her on the slightly unhappy Eagle - having her Orc so near him was obviously putting him on edge - after much shuffling, "There is plenty of room for you, all you need to do is hold on and stretch out and everything will be fine,"

Fine?

Huh.

"They will bring you to the edge of Mirkwood where you will be met,"

"Yes Gandalf," she answered him, hating that she sounded like a child even to her own ears.

She looked down at those who had come to see her of and to meet the Eagles.

Lord Elrond was smiling softly at her, Balin was nodding his head, Thorin was frowning - did he ever do anything else - her Captain was fretting at the whole situation and Azog looked as though he wanted to kill everyone in sight.

"Please," she looked at her husband, "Do not behead anyone while I am gone," Azog snorted at this and she heard him mutter something about a battle not being long in coming anyway.

"I shall see you inn the shadow of Mirkwood, husband,"

"You are wingless wife. Do not fall,"

And with that heart touching farewell he stepped away from the Eagle. Bilbo rolled her eyes.

"Good journey through Mirkwood, Master Dwarf," she called to Balin who smiled at her, the twinkle coming to his eyes for a moment before fading again.

"Safe travels, your majesty," he bowed to her.

Bilbo watched as the advisor elbowed his king only to receive no reaction at all and she bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from laughing.

And just like that, the Eagle - obviously bored with the goodbyes - began to move and Bilbo only had enough time to clutch to the feathers as with several powerful beats of his wings they were air born.

"Maybe I could have handled the whole thing a lot better than I did,"

Bilbo supposed she should have felt ridiculous, talking the way she was, but the pain coming from her chest and the whispers in her head had been growing worse for hours so she had just began to talk, her cheek resting against the silk soft feathers of the Eagle. Anything to take her mind from the pressure in her chest. The pain…the voices…

She had been terrified and tense with nerves during the first spell of their flight. And it took her some tome before she realized that they were flying in the company of two other Eagles. After what felt like a life-time she found she could almost ignore the height they were flying at, the wisps of cloud hiding the ground so far below them almost completely. In fact, if it weren't for the breezes rustling her hair, tugging her clothes and chilling the tips of her ears and the gentle movements of the wings at each side of her she would never have even realized they were off the ground.

There was a warmth coming from the Eagle that prevented her from feeling the nip of the wind too much and every now and again the Eagle would croon beneath her so she suppose he was hearing some of what she was saying.

"It was hard though. I couldn't resist being a bit…well…high handed I suppose, when I first told them who I was,"

Before she had known what she was doing she had found herself telling the Eagle Lord all about her journey with the Company and when they had tumbled into her realm.

"They had treated me like I knew nothing though!" she reasoned, a stab of pain in her head forcing a tear from her eye.

It took a few minutes of gulping in the thin air to accustom herself to the increased throbbing.

"You should have been around Thorin for months of traveling," she gasped, chuckling slightly, "The man was insufferable. Called me a grocer when we first met," she snapped, "Who does that?" a soft croon came from beneath her, "He stepped into my house and tried his level best to intimidate me and insult me. And then he ate my food. The cheek!" a shriek - of agreement? - came from the Eagle, "Exactly!" she decided the Eagle was agreeing with her, "Height of rudeness. You do not insult someone and then sit down to eat their food and drink their ale!"

She moved her head slightly to bury her face into the feathers, her whole body tensing.

The pain was growing worse, the ring felt as though it was burning through her shift and scorching her skin. The whispers growing to shouts.

"And now he thinks me lower than dirt," another croon from the great creature, "Its not like I asked for the job, you know," she was growing almost hysterical now, saying anything that came into her mind, pressing herself hard against the back of the Eagle. Talking. Just talking. Keeping her mind from everything but the words.

"It was handed to me and I couldn't do half a job, could I?"

Another shriek of agreement.

"No. I couldn't. And then…well…the alliance with the Orcs just…happened,"

Well, it had more than 'just happened'. It had taken work and lots of knee weakening fright from her to grow accustomed to the towering Azog and his band.

Bilbo gritted her teeth until her jaw ached until the next bought of pain had ebbed…or was she just growing used to it.

A high pitched shriek to the sides had her looking to the right and then to left. The two magnificent Eagles who had been flanking her own had drawn in closer to them.

It was a breathtaking sight, the way the massive birds moved so gracefully through the clouds, the occasional beam of sunlight causing them to shine and almost sparkle as the light bounced from their feathers.

"Mother would have loved this," she sighed.

---To Be Continued---

Chapter Text

Chapter 45

The return journey was filled with bone shattering relief and soul destroying shame.

Relief that the burning weight of the ring was finally gone from about her neck - it had grown steadily worse the closer they had flown to the burning mountain.

Overwhelming thankfulness that the voices in her head were silenced after days of being filled with the poisonous whispers and a burning that rivaled the despicable bauble she had worn.
And she had so nearly given into the whispers. She had stood on the brink, the ring's gold winking blood-red in the light of the flames. The voices whispers growing until they filled her mind…filled the mountain itself…

'Why shouldn't she use the ring? If any needed it her people did. She could protect them indefinitely with its power. What did the other races care for her Goblins? Or her husbands Orcs? Or even one little Hobbit? They would always be outcasts. But with this ring it would no longer be the case. She would rule!'

The voices raged in her head as she stood, her hand outstretched over the chasm, she could feel the heat of the fire so far below on her arm. Bilbo licked her lips, the taste of salt was heavy on her tongue, she could feel the sweat on her skin. She struggled. Fighting the inner battle the ring had waged against her.

Something was wrong. She knew it. She felt the bile in her throat, her stomach churning with the wrongness of it all. But the voices sounded so persuasive.

Filling her mind until she could hardly think.

She could rule.

All she would need to do is keep it…look after it…use it…

No!

Even as her traitorous hand tightened about the ring, her arm drawing back from the mouth of the pit, more than ready to place the band on her finger she thrust her arm back, as far from her body as she could achieve, and opened her fist.

Bilbo watched it fall for a moment, resisting the urge to jump after it, to hold it to her as it spun in the air before her eyes.

The shouting in her head grew to a desperate screech. And then, like the setting of a bone, pain laced through her.

Bilbo collapsed with a painfiled shriek, not even feeling the pain of the rocks digging into her knees as she fell heavily and rolled onto her back.

And then, as quickly as the pain had come, it was gone, leaving Bilbo panting on the rocky ground, her empty hands clasped to her chest, the burn of tears pricking behind her eyes at her weakness.

What had she almost done?

She had been so close…to close.

Slowly Bilbo gathering herself together, the salt of her tears mixing with the salt of her sweat as she struggled to breath and slowly rolled to her knees.

The Eagles, she needed to return to the Eagles.

With shaking arms she braced herself against a rock and used it to pull herself to her feet. She leaned against it and breathed as they tears of shame eventually ran dry.

And then the bubble began to grow in her chest. It was so small she thought it was just her own disgust at herself to begin with. That little uncomfortable feeling beneath her heart.

But it grew, until against her will, a giggle burst from her lips.

Bilbo clasped a hand across her mouth.

What was she doing?

Then it happened again.

The giggle grew until she couldn't stop it and with one hand against the boulder and another across her stomach in an attempt to hold herself together, she was bent double, hysterical tears streaming from her eyes and mad cackles breaking from her lips. She struggled to drag in a breath between her rib breaking laughter. She felt like she was floating, she felt queasy, insane…she felt drunk.

Rule Middle Earth?

The cackles calmed until just the odd giggle broke from her like hiccups, the tears coming to a stop.

Still smiling like a maniac and feeling as though she had ran twenty times around the Shire she sagged against the rock.

Rule Middle Earth?

She had enough trouble dealing with her little slice of it, thank you.

It had taken much effort on her part as she willed her pain filled body to move, but she eventually made her way back to the eagles.

Now with her face buried in the slightly ruffled feathers of the great eagles neck she closed her eyes and breather. Willing the journey to be over even while time merged into nothing around her.

Bilbo slid from the back of the giant bird and into the arms of Lord Elrond. She wrapped her arms around his neck, hoping he wouldn't put her down, her legs felt week just hanging there and she knew it was foolish to expect them to hold her up if she was placed on the ground.

Heights and Hobbits did not mix and she had just been very high up indeed for a very long time.

"You did well," Elrond spoke into her ear, holding her tighter - much to her relief.

Well?

Did that mean they had succeeded? Or that despite all efforts their quest had failed? Despite her inner struggle with the ring and the pain - mental and physical - it had caused her, her journey with the Eagles seemed to have been far too easy. Both there and back.

Bilbo was about to open her mouth to ask if they had been successful when a snarl came from behind Elrond and she felt herself being ripped from his arms.

"What-" Elrond began but the snarl cut him off, along with a high annoyed shriek from one of the Eagles.

She had babbled about her husband to the Eagles but it seemed like no amount of mindless chatter on her part would have the accepting an Orc.

"Azog," she sighed, recognizing the hard arms and taller figure of her husband without even opening her eyes, "Treat me gently or I will be sick. Hobbits are not meant to fly,"

Her husband merely grunted but stood still and she settled her head against his warm, scar roughened chest, while her head and stomach stopped rolling at the sudden jolting she had just received.

"Perhaps your husband will stop threatening us with decapitation now you have returned my dear," Gandalf's voice drifted to her.

"Never, wizard," snarled her husband viciously and she patted his chest with her hand absentmindedly.

She would just have to accept that Gandalf would never change and his big mouth would continue to get him into trouble. One day perhaps more than he could get himself out of.

"No one will kill me but you, husband," she reassured the Orc while her gentle pats turned into exhausted strokes as she tried to calm him, feeling his frame thrumming with tension, no doubt wishing to carry out the threats he had been making during her abscence.

Azog chuckled roughly at her.

"I worry about you Bilbo Baggins,"

Bilbo snorted at this. She did not need to have wizards worrying about her, or her relationship with her husband, and she told Gandalf so, more than thankful when no reply came and she could concentrate on not vomiting.

After a few minutes her stomach finally felt like it was going to stay where it belonged and she opened her eyes to see that Lord Elrond and Gandalf were not the only ones present in the company of her husband and his band.

She gasped. A blush of mortification flooding her cheeks and rising into her ears, burning the tips.

The Lady of Light.

Galadriel.

"My Lady-" she stuttered from her place in Azog's arms, her husband's growl building in his chest so that nearly her whole body was shaking with it as shestruggled uselessly to get free.

Meeting the Lady of Lothlorien in such a way. Unheard of!

The Elven lady smiled warmly at her and Bilbo had to stop herself from covering her eyes at the beauty of her as she kept her eyes fixed on Bilbo, not even flicking her gaze in wariness to the Orc currently holding her.

"I have heard much of you, Bilbo Baggins, Queen of the Goblins," the lady spoke softly, her voice sounding as though she were only a breath away from a gentle laugh, "You have achieved many things thought to be impossible. And you have fought for peace between our peoples. And now," Azog's arms tightened around her – always careful to not harm her with his metal addition - as Galadriel stepped closer to them, not disturbing one stone or leaf as she all but floated forward, "the whole of Middle Earth owes you their thanks,"

Bilbo felt weak.

They had done it. They must have. The Dark Lord was gone.

"He is gone?" she whispered and with a wider smile on her lips Galadriel nodded her head.

"Never to take physical form or regain his powers. Middle Earth is free of him,"

Oh thank goodness.

Bilbo sagged backward into her husband.

Thank goodness.

-To Be Continued-

Chapter Text

Bilbo was told the tale of Gandalf's adventure with the White Council, the Wizard stepping into her line of sight and blocking Galadriel from her sight.

They had faced the Dark Lord who had been masquerading as The Necromancer in Dol Goldur, where he was amassing his army. It seemed that Gandalf had requested the aid of more than just the eagles whom he sent with her, and with their aid his own party had traveled swiftly to the Dark Lords fortress where he had been finally conquered.

"You are to be congratulated, Bilbo," Gandalf was ignoring her husband's reaction to him entirely and focusing souley on her, "Should the ring have survived he would have returned, vanquished for a short time,"

The prickling of shame registered itself at the back of her head but and she forced it down. Yes she had been tempted but she had fought against it and won. And it seemed like stronger than her had been tempted. The Wizard Saruman had gone straight into self imposed isolation after the confrontation with the Dark Lord, after admitting to the council members of his own near seduction by the power being displayed.

"Bolg now leads the pack," Azog adjusted his hold on her, tightening his arms slightly, the blades of the his arm pressed flat towards her so as not to injure her.

The informations came as a slight surprise to Bilbo and she felt a stab of anger at her own naievity. What did she think would happen? That Sauran would fall and all evil would crumple. No. It did not work like that and Bilbo cursed herself for not knowing any better, for her naivety.

A battle was yet to be fought.

The eagles did not remain long on the ground and left in a flurry of squaks and feathers as soon as they could, Gandalf explaining they had already risked being shot from the sky by a Lake Man or even one of the Elves from the Woodland Realm itself.

Bilbo was certain she would remember the wind of their wings against her face until she was old a gray.

Not wishing to remain too long in the forest -

"Thranduil is a stubborn one, Bilbo Baggins, it would be best not to antagonize him with our presence at this time,"

- Lady Galadriel was the next to leave…although Bilbo could never be sure when. It seemed as though one moment the Elven woman was there, smiling at her, and the next she was gone, melted into the forest.

Had she been accompanied by anyone? Guards? Bilbo couldn't say.

Elves and their secrets she sighed as their own depleted group now journeyed toward the mouth of the river that fed into the great lake, to where they were to meet the Company. Skirting the river as much as they could and avoiding having to go too far into the edge of the woods as they could.

With a piece of lambas bread in her hands – not exactly up to Hobbit standards of a celebratory meal but better than nothing – Bilbo got used to the idea that Azog would not be releasing her anytime soon and she settled back and decided to be grateful that she wasn't walking. Her legs were aching from the tension that had filled her body as she flew on the back of the Eagle.

They reached the designated meeting spot after almost a whole day's journeying and Bilbo squinted as they approached the groups of Orcs, she couldn't spot one Dwarf among them. She looked to the ground, after all, she wouldn't be able to see their heads past the bulk of Orcs. But still, there was not one Dwarven sized boot in the sea of leather.

She was going to kill them.

"It looks like we may have a problem,"

Very good Gandalf, Bilbo fumed.

"Where is Oakenshield?" Azog snarled, placing her onto the back of his Warg who had came padding over to them as soon as she had spotted Azog.

Bilbo ran her fingers through the massive animals fur, hoping to calm her down as she knew the animal had a tendency to pick up on Azog's mood and become agitated when her master was. The strong muscles rippled beneath her as the Warg shifted from one foot to the other, the urge to walk beside her master warring with the order he had given her to stay where she was.

"Shh," Bilbo soothed, shifting to reach the animals massive head and rubbing behind an ear that was larger than her foot.

While obviously still not happy with the situation the Warg did settle a little to watch the proceedings with Bilbo, massive head cocked curiously to one side.

"They ran from us," one of the Orcs entrusted as a head of one of the groups spat in disgust.

Yip. Dwarves were idiots.

"All of you?" she called.

She could make out at least three of the groups who were to have been sent out with two or three Dwarves each. Had all of the Dwarves come to a decision to escape at the first chance they got before they had even left the Misty Mountains?

Thorin!

The Orcs all nodded glumly. Yes, she would be put out too if she were an Orc who couldn't keep track of two Dwarves.

"The spiders attacked,"

Ah, so they saw the opportunity and took it. She had little doubt that they could have remained as a group if they wished. But they hadn't.

She should have had them knocked out and tied to the Wargs. Things would have been so much less trouble that way. You can't run away of you are unconscious. She had thought that with what was at risk the Dwarves would have honored the decisions made. It looked like she had thought too highly of them.

"Have you searched for them?" Bilbo should have known it was only a matter of time before Gandalf stuck his nose into the conversation.

The Orc designated at the spokesman bared his discolored teeth at the wizard. Resenting the question or the interruption Bilbo didn't know.

Bilbo thought dreamily back on all the books she had read growing up and all the adventure stories her mother had told her. In them the heroes would complete their quest and the story would end with a grand celebration - music, dancing, feasts. Not in this case though. Life went on. And in Bilbo's case it was going to be searching for missing Dwarf royals in a Giant Spider infested forest.

She should have let Azog take Thorin's foolish head!

Bilbo took a deep breath and steadied herself. Trying to calm her rising anger. No, she didn't want Thorin parted from his head. Not really.

What could she do to fix this?

Perhaps she could approach Thranduil and request his help in finding them. But then if her memory served her correctly there was some animosity between the woodland realm and Erebor. The House of Durin seemed to have a knack for rubbing people up the wrong way. Where they born with it or was it something they were taught at a certain age? She couldn't imagine anyone disliking Fili or Kili so it must be something Durins grew into.

"Thranduil has them?" Elrond spoke and Bilbo realized she had just missed a whole section of the conversation she would have been better off listening to.

"They were herded through the gate,"

Well, that was just great!

Stupid Dwarves!

It looked like she wouldn't need Thranduil's help after all. She would just need to try and steal them from him.

"The others are watching,"

Well at least the gate was being kept an eye on.

Gandalf began to argue with Elrond about the wisdom of knocking on the gate and when Azog got involved she closed her eyes and sighed.

Strangely, she thought she could hear the sound of distant shouting in the lulls of the arguing.

She shrugged it off, it was probably an echo, they were shouting loud enough. Until the sound seemed to be getting louder.

She tilted her head to try and gauge just where the voices where coming from and glared at the arguing men when she couldn't.

"Shh," she hissed.

No one paid her any attention.

Well, how do you like that!

She tried again, this time with a finger over her mouth. The universal 'shhhh'ing gesture.

It did no good. After all, they weren't even looking at her to see the gesture for them to shut up.

That does it.

"Quiet!" she shouted, causing the animal beneath her to startle and yip at the sudden noise, she tightened her grip in the fur to stay balanced until the Warg stilled again and apologized with a gentle pat.

All of the men turned to look at her.

"Listen," she ordered.

And they did. It took a moment or two but the shouts once again began to drift along the water to them.

Finally she could pinpoint just where the sounds where coming from and looked along the slow running river just as several barrels bobbed around the bend.

"Is that…" she squinted.

Surely not.

"A Dwarf?" Elrond finished and she glanced at him just as a grin of pure amusement came to his lips.

Some of the Warg's barked into the air, their heads tilted back and Bilbo followed the eyes of several of the Orc and caught sight of the ones who must have been watching the gate running along the side of the river.

It looked like the Dwarves had managed to escape without any help after all.

They were going to wish they were still Thranduil's guests by the time she was finished with them.

Chapter Text

Much to Bilbo's surprise Gandalf was the one to lose his temper first once all of the Dwarves had been pulled slightly damp and a little green about the gills from the barrels. It was more than a little amusing the way they collapsed onto the shore one by one, their legs unable to hold their weight.

Bilbo let him have his say and decided that if he covered everything there was no point in her saying anything to him.

"What were you all thinking?" the wizard bellowed, seeming to gain height and bulk as he often did when he was angry.

His knuckles were turning white as he gripped his staff, slamming it into the ground with what must have been bone jarring force to emphasis his point. He wanted everyone to know that Gandalf the Grey was angry. And he was succeeding magnificently in Bilbo's opinion. She was just glad that his anger wasn't aimed at her.

"Larger things were at stake than your Kingdom, Thorin Oakenshield, and you did something like this!"

Seeing that Gandalf was in full flow she turned to her husband and his soldiers and squeezing slightly on the Warg's sides with her legs, encouraged the beast to move forward, which she happily did as it got her nearer to her master.

The beast forced her way into the circle surrounding her husband and Bilbo ignored the glare Azog shot at her. If he thought he would succeed in keeping her from this he was in for a surprise.

Bilbo listened in astonishment as Azog was told of the Dwarves just floating out of the Elven Kings palace. The whole idea was ludicrous and yet it had worked. They had not thought the plan through though and there had been a watch station along the river for them to pass.

That was where her husband's Orc's came into the proceedings. Keeping the Elves busy – hopefully not killing any she hoped (no doubt a futile hope) – and allowing the Dwarves to escaped down the river.

More trouble than they were worth, that's what there were. Darned Dwarves!

It was a soggy group of Dwarves who had to trudge along with them along the edge of the river, the Orcs putting their collective foot down and not allowing the soaking truants anywhere near their Wargs.

Bilbo supposed she should feel sorry for them but she couldn't even muster a look of pity towards them. They were the ones who had gone stumbling around the cursed forest with an invite to be captured all but written across their foreheads.

It seemed that they had escaped thanks to the help of an Elven Captain who Kili had taken a fancy to and by all accounts she to him. Bilbo had a sinking feeling that the poor woman was going to find herself out of a job sooner rather than later.

Her thoughts were interrupted as their little group came to standstill, she looked around trying to spot exactly what had caused them to stop, they had not traveled all that far from where they had dragged the Dwarves ashore. Everything seemed quiet. Too quiet. While the sounds of birds had been a few the further they traveled and now there was nothing. There was just the gurgling of the flowing river at their side.

Some of the Wargs began to shift with the tension, sniffing the air.

"Away from the water," her husband ordered in a snarl.

His Orcs obeyed without question, sending their Wargs behind rocks and prodding the disgruntled Dwarves into hiding along with them.

To her surprise Elrond and Gandalf offered no questions either as they ducked out of sight of the river along with the others.

Bilbo panicked when after seeing her safely hidden Azog returned towards the river, leaving her between two of his Orcs with growled orders to keep an eye on her.

What was he doing?

No one breathed. The only sound being the gentle panting of the Wargs. And then there was a decidedly non-Orc cry of surprise and a splash.

They waited. Bilbo because she didn't want to get in the way, the Orcs because they didn't want to face Azog's anger if they came out of hiding before their time, the Dwarves because the Orcs were holding onto them and Elrond and Gandalf…well, she didn't know what their reasons were but was glad of them anyway.

A bellow from the river after a few minutes had everybody up and moving.

Bilbo gaped at what she saw.

There was a boat and Azog was busy dragging the drenched form of a Man further away from the edge of the rocks and towards them.

She rushed forwards. Please don't let him be dead.

"Is he alive?"

Azog continued to drag the man behind him by one arm but bared his teeth at her.

What exactly did that translate to in –

Oh.

She looked between the river and the watery track Azog was leaving behind him coming from the man. Of course. He had dug him out the water. If he had wanted him dead he would have left him there.

"Well, we have a boat," Balin announced, a beaming smile on his face.

"Bought with innocent blood," Thorin muttered under his breath.

Innocent blood? How many innocent Elves had her husband's Orcs potentially killed or injured so that they could escape down the river with relative ease? And it was all their own fault.

"I think you will find, Master Oakenshield," Lord Elrond spoke steadily, ever the voice of reason, "That the Laketowner is still very much alive,"

Thorin merely continued to glower, with his arms folded across his chest and his eyes hooded with repressed anger.

"Get the filth on board," Azog snapped and in the blink of the eye each of the Dwarves were heaved into the barge.

She ignored their shouts of protest. Nowhere near enough time had passed for her anger at them to fade just yet. She had treated them as allies and they had betrayed her with running away the way they did. If Azog wanted to have an Orc breathing down each of their necks for the rest of the journey that was fine with her right now.

She looked between their group and the remaining space left on the barge.

There were ten Orcs and each Orc had his Warg with him. Then there was Elrond and Gandalf. And Azog. And herself.

There was nowhere near enough room, they would once again have to split up.

Azog pointed with his weaponised arm at two of his men and gestured for them to join the Dwarves. They did as they were told, their Wargs whining pitifully as they were left on shore.

They hissed words to their mounts and the animals allowed themselves one more long whine into the air before going silent and sitting on their haunches.

She knew that the Wargs would tag along with the rest of the pack until they re-joined their riders, but she felt a tug in her chest at the sight of the obviously miserable animals. Some Wargs were born for riders and others were used to form packs for tracking and hunting. These animals were meant to have a master and they would be wretched until they joined their Orcs again.

Elrond and Gandalf hopped onto the barge without being told and all Bilbo could do was stare at the water as the barge bobbed lazily.

She took a step back and walked into the leg of the white Warg at her back.

Hobbits did not like heights and she had faced that fear. But watching the water lap at the edge of the boat had her Hobbit senses rebelling, if she fell in she would drown.

"Come wife," Azog held out his hand for her.

She couldn't move. She just stared.

All she could see was the water. Miles and miles of water. So much of it for one little hobbit to fall into and never be found again. She would sink to the bottom of the lake like a rock. She would –

Her husband sighed and climbing back onto the shore he stalked towards her. She shook her head at him slowly and needless to say he ignored her, lifting her gently, hooking his spiked arm far enough under her arm pit for the blade not to even nick her clothing.

"You destroy the ring and balk at water," he rumbled.

She balled up her fist and hit his chest in annoyance.

Bilbo ignored the swaying of the barge as much as she could. Slowly creaking left. Slowly creaking right.

And the splashing… Who knew water could be so noisy?

The Dwarves grumbled unhappily among themselves.

Bofur was telling Bifur that he knew his cousin had told everyone running off in the middle of Mirkwood would be a bad idea. And that yes, maybe things hadn't been thought out as well as they could have been. Wait now! Bifur couldn't go about saying things like that. He was their king after all.

Bilbo smiled to herself, wondering just what Bifur had said about Thorin to get that kind of reaction.

"Miss Bilbo," she opened her eyes, the light piercing them for a moment or two until she got accustomed to the sun again from having her eyes shut for so long, "Your Majesty,"

She met the eyes of Ori. The young Dwarf was playing with his sleeves, stretching them up and over his hands in nervousness.

"Hello Ori," she smiled at the carrot-haired scribe and elbowed her husband who had started his customary growling behind her, it did nothing to him but made her feel better.

The poor lad looked behind her and paled, his eyes widening.

"What can I do for you Ori?"

"I…I…I want to apologise," he rushed out.

The other Dwarves she noticed had fallen silent and were steeling furtive glances their way. Dori looked like the panic he was going through was going to kill him if he didn't calm down soon and was being held back by Nori.

"Apologize?" she focused back on Ori.

"Yes. You had a great responsibility and you trusted us to stay with the…the guides. And we didn't. I'm sorry," Ori was nearly beetroot now and he stood in front of her, now obviously not knowing what do once that he had finished his little speech.

"Thank you Ori," she smiled and he before she could say anything else he scurried off back to the Company.

"Dwarves," Azog snarled in disgust.

"Yes dear," she sighed.

-To Be Continued-