The Admiral's Bookend was the tiniest, dustiest shop on all of Bagshot Row. Bilbo Baggins liked to try to believe, when he was feeling particularly generous, that it had once seen better days. Perhaps better centuries. This, however, was not one of his generous days, and he scowled at his surroundings. The rickety shelves were laden so high with books in various states of disrepair that he could easily envision them all toppling over like a deadly set of dominoes. It was dark and gloomy in the little shop, the light of the dying afternoon sun barely peeking in through the little gaps left in the windows, with their stacks of books serving as defense against any form of cheer from the outside.
Bilbo peered up the narrow flight of steps leading back to the street, judging his chances. There were an unusual number of ships in the harbor now, and he could usually count on extra revenue during such times, with bored officers stopping in to replenish their stores of entertainment before setting out to sea again - but perhaps not on such a day. Already he could hear the sounds of the mob gathering, making their way along the narrow streets toward the Sands, and likely overindulging in various forms of alcohol which were certain to make their gathering all the rowdier. It was not likely to be a good day for selling books.
He nodded decisively, and slammed his ledger book shut as he hopped up from his stool. He would risk a few lost pennies, if it meant he could be part of the event this time. When Thomas Green and his men had been hanged, only a few months back, Bilbo had missed it entirely while reorganizing a collection of encyclopedias that were never going to sell. This time, he wasn't going to risk missing out on the biggest source of gossip and excitement the town was likely to see for a long while.
It wasn't that often they got to hang a pirate, after all.
He groaned aloud when, just as he was about to make his escape, the way out was blocked by a familiar and woefully overexcitable figure. "Not today, lad," he sighed, shaking his head wearily. "I'm afraid I'm shutting up for the evening. We'll have to discuss whatever obscure and dreadful play you've got your eye on another day."
Usually, he was quite glad to spot his current guest - but then again, he usually wasn't hurrying to see a good execution, either. Young Kili was a frequent guest, and had been stopping by Bilbo's little hole in the ground for years - always respectful of the books, and a source of decent conversation, so Bilbo allowed him to peruse the wares as long as he liked, and usually found himself offering tea to the lad, despite his firm policies against such frivolities with customers. Kili had slipped under his defenses the first time he stopped in, as a rather bedraggled-looking cabin boy of ten, and he'd continued to do so for the next six years or so, until Bilbo found himself thinking of the lad as almost a friend.
But when he looked at the lad properly, Bilbo found himself more than a bit surprised. Kili was usually a disgusting display of cheerfulness in the midst of dust and gloom. Today, he looked half-frantic, and his usually immaculately-kept midshipman's uniform was a shambles. He had been so proud to stop in and show it off to Bilbo when he'd first received his commission! Bilbo half wondered whether that spoke more to the lad's pride, or to the lack of friendly faces he had to speak to, but he had kept that to himself. Kili's long, dark hair had half escaped from his queue, and was curling wildly and falling in his face as though it had a life of it's own.
"Do you know anything about maps?" Kili blurted out, one hand shooting out to grab Bilbo's sleeve desperately. "Old ones. Really old."
Bilbo blinked at him, beyond startled. "I've read a book or three on the subject," he said slowly. "I'm nothing like an expert, you understand, but I've an inkling of how they work, I think." Maps were, in fact, one of Bilbo's favourite topics, and one he considered himself a bit of an amateur expert in - but he had learned long ago that it did not do to give one's strengths away all at once.
"Good," Kili said firmly, and began to tow him away. "And how's your sword-work?"
"Swords?" Bilbo dug his heels in, and gaped at the boy. "Hold hard there, my lad. What are you up to? If you've gotten yourself in trouble again -"
"Not me! Not this time!" Kili shook his head fast, and then regarded Bilbo worriedly for a minute. "Can't say yet. There's trouble - someone else's, thank the maker, and I need your help."
Bilbo groaned. "All I want to do is go down to the Sands and see the execution!" he fussed. "Can't you beguile some other hapless shopkeeper into your schemes this time? There's always the Sackville-Bagginses, you know - you may consider yourself given free reign to bring down trouble on their heads!"
"The Sands," Kili muttered, ignoring him entirely. That was deeply unlike him, and Bilbo frowned. "Yes, that's where we're going. Come on, please, Mr. Baggins! There's no time to lose!"
Bilbo held out long enough against those dark, pleading eyes to lock up his shop, but that was all. He found himself trotting along beside the young midshipman at a pace that was a little more than comfortable for him. Kili's legs seemed to have grown even longer in the few months since Bilbo had last seen him - although part of him would never stop seeing the lad as the tiny, pale-faced child who had wandered into his shop years before. He was taller than Bilbo by a good head or more now, and wore a uniform he had earned all on his own - and it suited him well. A prince in all his finery couldn't look prouder than his young friend in his dark jacket and white pants, the gold buttons shining grandly in the low afternoon sun.
Kili led them on toward the Sands, darting through side-streets and along hidden avenues that Bilbo had never even known existed. "No time," he muttered darkly as they darted under a line of hanging clothes. "He'll kill me if I'm late!"
"Bard?" Bilbo gasped, wheezing for breath. "Never known him - kill you yet," he panted. "Should, maybe."
Bard, the Captain of the Black Arrow, had been the only person Bilbo had ever known Kili to show any sign of respect for. For his Captain, Kili kept to curfews and maintained his uniform. Bard had apparently looked after him with unusual regard, for the Navy, and had helped to see that the lad made midshipman. But Kili shook his head.
"No - the Captain doesn't know." He looked stricken at that, and turned around to run half-sideways while he looked at Bilbo. "He doesn't know at all, Mr. Baggins. How am I going to explain this to him?"
"No idea," Bilbo wheezed. "Haven't - explained - to me."
Kili ignored that, and ran even faster. Bilbo cursed the young - all of them, in fairly specific terms - and tried his best to keep up.
They made it to the Sands far faster than he could have expected, and Kili somehow maneuvered him through the crowd that had gathered to watch the execution, hugging the sides of buildings as they moved inexorably toward the high wooden platform that had been constructed for the occasion. Bilbo peered up at it as they went, and felt a little shudder crawl down his back. Piracy was a dreadful thing, it was true, and there was no doubt that it had to be stomped out wherever possible. But the gallows was even more dreadful, reaching up toward the darkening clouds with a stark cruelty that made him shiver. The breeze picked up, cold even for so early in the spring, and the smell of the sea was heavy in the air. Just beyond the crowd, the waves crashed onto the rocky shore, as if seeking out their own.
He had thought he wanted to see an execution. Now, he was glad that Kili was apparently set on providing him an irresistible distraction.
Bilbo was startled out of his thoughts as he crashed headlong into the lad, who had stopped abruptly at the edge of a little pub that sat along the water, and was now peering out into the crowd, murmuring under his breath.
"Come on, come on," Kili whispered.
"Do you ever intend to tell me what's going on?" Bilbo asked dryly, glad to have regained his breath so that he could speak without embarrassment.
"It's - a family matter," Kili said, and winced.
"Family," Bilbo said slowly. "Lad, I may have it all wrong, but in the years we've known one another, you've never spoken of family."
"That's because I don't have one," Kili said sharply, and then winced again, and shook his head. "Or rather, I do, and that's the whole problem, you see?"
Bilbo did not see. At all. But Kili seemed to feel as if that had been explanation enough, and turned back to stare out into the crowd, looking increasingly more frantic. All around them, the mob was cheering and chanting, the noise growing with every second.
There was a shout of recognition from somewhere closer to the gallows, and Bilbo could feel the whole tone of the crowd shift, growing darker and hungrier. He couldn't help himself. With the strategic use of his sharp elbows and a nearby water barrel, Bilbo managed to position himself slightly above the heads of the crowd, cursing his short stature as he struggled to get a glimpse of the day's storied main character. The pirate was being led out on to the gallows, hands shackled behind him, and Bilbo nearly toppled off his barrel as he got his first proper look.
The setting sun was perfectly aligned behind the man, serving to make his already tall and muscular frame look even more impressive. He looked, Bilbo thought absently, rather as though he had been dipped in gold all around the edges - except his hair, where silver hairs shone in the dark strands like stars in the heavens. He looked rather exactly like a pirate ought to, down to the billowy white shirt and the tattoos Bilbo could barely make out, inked into his forearms. There was no patch on his eye, nor parrot on his shoulder, but Bilbo could accept that not every detail had to be perfectly reproduced from his books. This was a pirate, beyond all doubt - and he was about to be hanged.
"Where is he?" Kili hissed, spinning in a quick circle and nearly startling Bilbo again from his insecure perch. Around them, the crowd was beginning to pick up a chant, their disparate roars becoming one cohesive idea that grew in strength and power as it rumbled through the crowd.
"Who?" Bilbo asked, and found he needed to shout to be heard.
"My thrice-damned fool of a brother!" Kili snapped. He spun around again, and then slumped against the wall next to Bilbo, looking frantic and more than a little defeated, all at once. "Of course, I suppose it would be easier looking for him if I had a clue what he looked like."
Bilbo raised an eyebrow, surprised yet again by the lad at his side, and then was distracted by the man on the gallows platform, who was refusing to kneel and pray. He stood tall, chin held high, and seemed to be staring out at the lot of them in defiance of their right to condemn him.
"I look the same as I always have, little brother," said a voice from right behind Kili, and now Bilbo did topple over, falling heavily against Kili. He didn't seem to notice. "Better than you!"
The newcomer looked as unlike Kili as Bilbo could imagine. He was dressed in a riot of patches and colors, and his golden hair flowed loose around his shoulders, except for the bits that were neatly twisted into shining braids. His ears were pierced with multiple bright hoops and rings, and a long, ragged scar was traced down the length of his face, giving him an almost dangerous appearance. Where Kili was still lanky and awkward, unsure of his own height and feet, their new arrival seemed to radiate supreme confidence in himself. He hooked his thumbs into his belt and grinned crookedly at Kili, bright blue eyes wrinkling at the corners. Kili stared at him, and Bilbo could not decide whether it was suspicion, delight, or fear that was gaining the upper hand in his expression. It was frankly exhausting, just watching his young face struggle with such indecision, and Bilbo shook him gently by one shoulder, hoping to hurry things along.
"Are you Fili?" Kili asked, sounding - shy, of all things, and Bilbo gaped at him in surprise. He had never known Kili to be wary, even when he ought to be. The newcomer dipped his head in acknowledgment, turning it into a little bow that was remarkable in its gracefulness.
"At your service," he said merrily. Straightening again, he shook his head in mock dismay. "Not even knowing your own brother? I'm surprised at you, Kili."
"It's been more than a decade! People change," Kili argued. Still, Bilbo could see the smile beginning to creep over his young features, and watched in some surprise as some of the tension seemed to go out of Kili's shoulders. "Oh, and this is Mr. Baggins!" Kili shoved him forward a little with a firm hand on his back. "Mr. Baggins, my brother Fili, it would seem."
Fili looked him over, and then raised an eyebrow at Kili. "This is our expert?"
"He's brilliant!" Kili said hotly, chin flying up as he faced down his brother. "Mr. Baggins knows just about everything, and he's read all the books there are. He can do it!"
But the supposedly brilliant Mr. Baggins was no longer paying much attention. The crowd were screaming, now, and clapping in rhythm with their chant as the pirate at the gallows was manhandled into position. An official stepped forward to tie a white cloth around his face, but he shook his head, and never stopped staring out into the crowd. He almost seemed to be looking for someone.
"We need to move," Fili said quickly - and suddenly all the merriment in him was gone, and he just looked dangerous. Kili stepped back a little, but nodded in agreement.
"Stay here, Mr. Baggins," he said, and it was at least half a plea. "We'll come get you when it's over."
"What is?" Bilbo demanded. He had had quite enough of being dragged around uselessly, without so much as a hint of what he was doing. "The execution?"
"There isn't going to be an execution," Fili declared. He grinned at Bilbo again, and this time Bilbo stepped back, more than a little worried by the intensity on the boy's face. "We're here to stop it."
"Stop it? Whatever for?" Bilbo turned to Kili, who had until this moment seemed like a fairly rational young man, and looked desperately for any sign of sanity in him. "Kili, what's he saying? Why should you prevent the execution of a known and very dangerous pirate?"
Kili hesitated a moment, his fingers straying up to touch the white collar patch that was such a proud mark of the rank he had earned - and then he glanced at his brother, and sighed heavily. "Because that pirate is our uncle, Mr. Baggins."
Bilbo gaped at him, and then looked up again at the striking figure on the gallows, about to be hanged. The roar of the crowd filled his ears, and he hardly noticed as Fili and Kili vanished into the crowd. The chant went on and on, and Bilbo stared up at the man on the gallows, who almost seemed to be looking back at him.
"Kill the Oakenshield!" The crowd roared, as with one voice. "Kill the Oakenshield!"
He should have stayed at the shop, after all.
OK, friends! Hello and welcome! A few notes:
For one, I have to acknowledge that this is a very selfish piece in a way, because I've had a deep and abiding interest in piracy for many years, and did a good deal of academic work on the subject. It's nice to be able to dig into some of this again for a different reason! It's also quite selfish because, as I am well aware, I have several unfinished projects on the table that I ought to be finishing before starting something new. Yeah...well. My life has become incredibly difficult and sad of late, and I very much need a project that's just fun and delightful. Which this may or may not turn out to be. But for now, that's where we stand.
Thank you very much for reading! I am truly grateful, and hope you're enjoying the story so far!