Lost in Mirkwood:

While traveling through Mirkwood, Thorin and Bilbo get separated from their company. Thorin finds himself having to work very hard to protect Bilbo as the hobbit continues to get himself into danger, while Bilbo realizes that he is a magnet to misfortune. The woods is full of peril, including but not limited to confusion, twisted roots, poisonous plants, large spiders, suspicious elves, and vicious orcs.


**One of my very favorite scenes in the second Hobbit movie was the scene where they were all lost in Mirkwood (before the spiders and right before the films of "The Hobbit" became more like "The Elves.") I loved how they portrayed the confusion of the forest, and so I began this story with a lot of the same sort of thing - the forest not making any sense and all of the characters feeling quite muddled and frustrated by it.

**This story is going to focus a lot on Bilbo finding trouble, and Thorin trying to keep him safe, but Bilbo will also, of course, at some points show his courage and bravery. As we know, he is certainly more than just a liability. It will eventually lead into a plot that will take them back where the original work had them. That is, this is a sort of side-adventure, with a few actual events from the book/movie (which go down a little differently in my version) and does not really heavily affect the outcome of the actual story of The Hobbit. Sting is named already in this though, without explanation... surely that's not a huge issue for anyone...

**This is all told in third person. Most chapters are in Bilbo's third-person point of view, with a few in Thorin's. While Bilbo and Thorin are by far the main characters, many others make appearances in this, most from the book/movies, and a few original characters, but not to worry. These original characters are mostly plot devices and will not overshadow Bilbo and Thorin.

Wait... Wait... WAIT! Sorry. Just one last thing real quick... This is my 50th fanfiction story! Cue the trumpets! Release the balloons and confetti! Light the Fireworks! Burn down the city! Er... um... Never mind that last bit. I just got so excited. At any rate... Hooray! Congratulations, me! It's a little hard for me to believe that I've been posting on this site since 2008, but looking back at my first stories, I see that the years have improved my writing tremendously, and I am proud and excited to post this as my 50th story. I think it's a good one, and one which deserves to be my 50th. And without further adieu, here you go, lovely readers. Enjoy:

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With a yelp of surprise, Bilbo fell to the ground as he stumbled over what was either a twisted root, or more likely, his own foot. The roots in these woods seemed to have a mind of their own, but Bilbo's feet and legs felt like lead, and if he had tripped over himself just now, it certainly wouldn't have been the first time it had happened today. Grumbling softly to himself, the hobbit pulled himself back up to his feet and staggered along through the woods, following Bofur's lead. He was so tired of this place.

He and the dwarves had been slowly making their way through Mirkwood, and it seemed like they had been lost for hours... maybe even days. Time didn't seem to flow so clearly here. He had no idea if it was even morning or night. The tree branches above him were so thick he couldn't even see the sun... or moon, or whatever was up there right now.

Everything here was so confusing... Something was certainly off about this forest. In fact, the hobbit had never experienced anything like this place ever in his life. Bilbo had been warned that the forest was to be taken seriously. Gandalf had warned them all about it before they had gone in, and before Gandalf had left them again, but Bilbo couldn't understand how a forest could purposefully lose people, nor could he understand why a forest would do such a thing.

Hobbits were known for their good sense of direction. He had been sure that he'd easily make his way through the forest, and that Gandalf had been overreacting. All they had to do was follow a path. That was easy. He had been confident that he'd be fine. But he wasn't. None of them were. This place made no sense, and they were all very much lost.

Just being lost by itself is frustrating enough, but this forest had done more than lose them. It was confusing them, twisting their worlds around, making them think they saw one thing or walked in a certain direction, when they had actually seen or done the opposite. And nothing was more frustrating than finding out what seemed to be a real experience was in fact entirely fictional.

One minute he'd be walking behind Bofur, and then seemingly with no time passing at all, he'd zone out, come back to himself and find that he was suddenly behind Fili. And then with no warning at all, he'd find that he was behind no one, for some reason leading everyone else. Bilbo didn't even remember walking passed any of the dwarves to get himself in the lead, nor did he recall having any of them walk passed him in those times when it seemed one dwarf would be replaced by another, which was one of the reasons he could no longer keep track of time, as it seemed to be going on without him. It was almost as if he was walking while asleep, waking only for brief moments, long enough to be reminded he was indeed still here, but not long enough to know where he was or what was happening.

"Bofur, did we get turned around again?" the hobbit wondered with an exasperated sigh as he reached out with a heavy arm and tapped Bofur's shoulder, "I thought we'd already gone passed this twisted tree. At least twice..."

"They're all twisted, lad," the dwarf in front of him turned around, but it wasn't Bofur. It was Gloin.

Bilbo narrowed his eyes as he stared at the dwarf in confusion. Gloin looked confused as well, "wasn't Bofur just there?" the hobbit asked, "I... I saw his hat. He was in front of me. I'm sure of it."

"I'm over here, Bilbo!" Bofur's cheerful voice rang out. It sounded like it was coming from above him.

Bilbo widened his eyes and slowly tilted his head upward so that he looked up, but saw nothing but twisted tree limbs.

"Get your head on straight," Thorin's serious voice spoke now. Bilbo looked back in front of himself. Thorin stood where Gloin had a moment before and was looking at Bilbo with annoyance in his features, "don't worry about who's walking where, Mr. Baggins. Let's just concentrate on getting through this wicked forest."

"Where-" Bilbo began, but stopped himself, shaking his head as he tried to rid himself of his confusion. He was going to ask Thorin where he had come from, but didn't want the dwarf any more angry or frustrated than he already was. This place made as little sense to the dwarves as it did to the hobbit. Thorin wouldn't have been able to explain where he had come from any more than Bilbo could explain how he felt like he was walking backwards even as he moved his legs forwards.

So Bilbo kept walking, behind Thorin one minute and then leading the way before he even realized he was. Bilbo hoped he was leading everyone in the right direction. The path they had once been following was long gone. He was just trying to lead them east... or was it west? He didn't know how long he had been leading the way... His feet hurt, and he felt tired, but that was a common occurrence on this journey. He couldn't remember the last time his feet didn't hurt, and he certainly hadn't felt well rested in months.

Bilbo narrowed his eyes as he looked ahead. Was that a light in the distance? It was dim, but it did seem to be there, quite far off across the woods. Light meant the end of the forest, probably, or at least someone's home or a camp fire. At the very least a light could lead them to other people, who might show them the way out of the forest. But was it even a light? Bilbo stared at it, faintly glowing in the distance. It was still there... If the woods was tricking him, it was being persistent in doing so... This wasn't just an out of the corner of his eye type trick. It was right there in front of his eyes, as plain as day. It certainly didn't seem like a trick to him.

It was a light, a real light. It had to be. That was their way out. Bilbo wasn't sure if he had spoken aloud or just mused to himself, but he was going to make his way toward that light. It was something different, for a change, which had to be a good sign. Maybe they were nearing the end of this confusing wood after all.

The light grew brighter and brighter as Bilbo drew closer to it. He still couldn't make out what it was. Was it sunlight? A campfire? Fireflies? Hopefully not just another trick of his mind. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep himself from screaming in frustration if they stayed lost in Mirkwood much longer.

"Hello?" Bilbo called out as he neared the light, but still he couldn't see what the light's source was. Surely it wasn't a group of trolls or orcs camping in the woods... That would be the worst case scenario, though why anyone would camp in these confounded woods would have held no logic to Bilbo whatsoever. Maybe if they were camping, it was because they were lost too, "Hullo over there," Bilbo called out again.

There was no answer, "must be sunlight then," Bilbo spoke to himself with a shrug, "Thorin!" Bilbo called out as he turned himself around, "I may have found the edge of the woods-" he interrupted himself with a panicked gasp when he was fully turned around. No one was behind him.

He glanced this way and that, as far into the distance as the thick trees and mist allowed. He listened for footfalls or grumbling voices. No one was anywhere to be seen or heard.

For a moment, Bilbo remained still and silent as his eyes scanned the trees around him. Everything in the woods seemed to be frozen in time. He heard no wind or insects, no groaning tree limbs... No dwarves... Nothing. It was almost as though he was looking at a painting instead of real life. The woods was too quiet. It seemed darker now than it had before too. Bilbo looked up into the trees' canopy. Perhaps the sun had gone behind a cloud. But then, he couldn't see the sun. He never could in Mirkwood. The trees had been too thick all along. Maybe it was night time... but it had happened so suddenly. Was the darkness a trick of his mind?

Bilbo's eyes followed a single stray leaf as it drifted impossibly slowly down from the branches above him. It seemed to take several minutes to make its way to the forest floor, where it landed without a sound. He shook his head, blinked his eyes, and looked around some more, "hello?" he called out in an uncertain voice. Where had everyone gone? "Thorin? Are you there? Bofur?"

All he could hear in response were his own slow breaths. They sounded too slow. So slow, in fact, that if he had noticed someone else breathing so slowly, he would have feared for their health. Was he really breathing that slowly? He was going to die if he kept breathing like this. The hobbit attempted to breathe quicker. His lungs needed more than one breath per minute. He felt like he was hyperventilating, but the sound of his breaths, which he could hear all around him, were so, so slow, so horrifyingly slow. No one could live while breathing like this.

"Thorin!" he yelled out again, falling to his knees as he clutched at his chest, "I-" he paused as he sucked in several more breaths, but only heard one long, drawn out exhale. He didn't understand this. Sure, the woods did strange things to him, but how could he have forgotten how to breathe? How could he think he was inhaling, but only hear an exhale? He gasped for a few more breaths, but still didn't feel like they were reaching his lungs, "Thorin!" he screamed, "I don't know if I'm breathing," he looked frantically around himself, "Balin!?" he scrambled to his feet and began running back the way he had come. Where was everyone?

He kept running, still not sure if his breaths were even real. He thought he had been breathing. It wasn't as though the action of inhaling was a difficult task to remember how to do, but he couldn't hear his breaths. Even as he ran, an action which required breathing, he couldn't tell if his lungs were really working. Wait... was he even running back the way he come? Which way had he come from? Bilbo paused in a tiny clearing in the woods. He didn't remember this clearing. Where was he?

"Dori? Oin? Gloin?" Bilbo felt his throat tightening as panic truly set in. Was he all alone? Being lost along with the dwarves was terrifying enough. Being lost all by himself was unbearable, "Dwalin?! Anybody!" he gasped, still not sure if he was breathing. He heard his own loud heartbeat, but the deafening breathing sounds he heard, seeming to almost want to drown him, were even slower now than ever, and still mostly just long exhales. He felt so scared. Could Mirkwood really fool him into forgetting how to breathe? Was he going to die here?

How could this be? How could his breaths be so few, even when he felt like he was gasping for air? This didn't make sense. Was the forest simply playing tricks on him? Surely he was breathing, with all his gasping... but he really didn't feel like he was. His lungs burned. It felt so real. He was panicking. He needed to breathe.

"Gandalf!" Bilbo screamed as he fell to the ground with a panicked sob. He knew the wizard wasn't there, but he was desperate. No one else was answering his calls, "Gandalf, please! Help me!" he whimpered, curling himself into a ball and focusing on taking breaths he wasn't sure were reaching his lungs. He had never felt so confused, or scared. Was he breathing? He honestly didn't know.

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I hope you like it so far. Review, please? :)