The lovely KariDei Uchiha is doing a spanish translation of this story: s/9553083/1/La-orden-de-Mahal .

Sunday September, 15, 2019

Davenport, Iowa

...

Bilbo Baggins was content to stay underground. It was safe and warm in the cement fall-out shelter his family had built years before, and nothing unexpected ever happened. Most people hadn't the foresight to carve themselves a safe-haven, but a Baggins was nothing if not prepared. His parents had built the shelter for tornadoes and possible warfare, but it served well enough to keep him safe from whatever unknown peril lurked topside.

The shelter contained everything he could possibly need. The cold cement floor was covered by thick rugs and tapestries warmed the walls. There was a stockpile of fuel for the lamps and a small stove which provided heat for warmth and cooking. Basic plumbing brought in fresh water for drinking and washing up, and carried away waste from the porcelain stool tucked into the tiny bathroom. There were several sets of bunk beds, a chest of drawers full of clothing, and shelves containing dozens of books and games. There was even an old television set and a radio that had ferried in rumors of a widespread sickness, until the electricity failed weeks ago. A large walk-in pantry was stocked with enough non-perishable food that he could easily survive for six months.

It had already been three.

Truly, the only thing his shelter lacked was company. The bunker had been built to house an entire family, but Bilbo had no one and was used to the solitude. When the world first went mad and he had tucked himself safely below-ground, there were television programs to watch and news reports to listen to. Bilbo had still felt connected to the world above him and it was easier to fool himself into thinking that he wasn't alone. Once the power went out, he found himself with an empty sort of loneliness, the kind no amount of books or food could fill. It was as if all the loneliness he had been carrying throughout his life had suddenly been brought to the forefront of his thoughts, where it sat churning and growing until he could no longer handle the isolation. Still, fear of the unknown dangers lurking outside kept him from venturing out of the safety of his lodgings. And even if he dared to leave his shelter- he would still be alone.

Bilbo settled in for an early evening meal- a routine he had come to relish- when a loud knock sounded on his door. He jumped, obviously frightened, though he knew the bar across the doorway would keep any intruders at bay. Creeping slowly forward, Bilbo grabbed a baseball bat to use as a makeshift weapon should the need arise. He pressed an ear to the door, startling slightly at the sound of human voices just beyond the steel barrier. Excitement and fear battled for dominance and his heart pounded in his chest as he strained to hear the conversation.

"This one appears to be locked, Uncle!" Said the first voice, softly.

"Maybe there's something good inside! Let's open it!" The second voice sounded excited and very young. Most likely a child.

"We can't just break down the door, boys. Who knows what could be inside." This voice was low and gravelly, though it held an air of unquestionable authority.

"But Uncle, there might be food inside. It's been days!" The first voice again, an edge of desperation apparent in the words.

"Please, Uncle?" The young voice said hopefully.

There was a long silence and for a moment Bilbo thought they had moved away from his doorway. He found himself panicking in despair, suddenly missing the sound of human voices more then he ever thought possible. The thought of spending one more night in lonely silence was unbearable. There were people outside- people who might have news, people who might be able to keep the lonesomeness at bay. Hefting his baseball bat, Bilbo called on all the bravery and courage he could muster and tossed caution to the wind. Throwing the latch, he pushed open the heavy steel door.

The three figures outside the entrance startled and the older man stepped in front of the two boys as if to protect them from danger.

Goose-bumps ran up Bilbo's arms, though whether from the chill of the air or the fear, he couldn't say. Regarding the strangers silently for a long moment, he found himself completely unsure of what to do now that his hiding place was exposed. Opening his mouth to speak, he found no words in his throat and closed his lips again without uttering a sound.

The man wore a midnight blue pea-coat, the elbows worn and patched, but Bilbo could recognize the fine craftsmanship. Dark hair streaked with silver framed his face, though it was long around the edges and desperately in need of a trim. His mouth was set in a worried frown and a scruffy beard followed the contours of his jawline.

There was something slightly feral about him; a lean tightness of muscles that stretched the shoulders of his jacket and a steely resolve set deep in his eyes.

Behind him, the two boys were different as night and day. They couldn't be older then 15 and 13, possibly even younger beneath the layers of dust and grime. The older boy sported cargo pants and a military jacket, his blond hair pulled back from his face in a series of braids. The scruff of a first beard coated his cheeks, and he rubbed his fingers over it nervously with his right hand, the left clutching the other boy's sleeve. The younger child looked around with curiosity, his dark eyes peering out from under an unruly mop of dark hair. Both his jean and gray parka were oversized, probably hand-me-downs, which made him appear even smaller.

Eventually, the man spoke, suspicion evident in his deep voice, "Thorin Oakenshield, at your service. And my nephews."

"Bilbo Baggins, at yours," He said, fighting the ridiculous urge to bow. Not sure of what else to do, he looked around, taking in the outside world for the first time in months.

In the gathering dusk the first thing that became apparent was the lack of lights. No cityscape gleamed in the distance, no buzz of streetlamps, or hazy flashes from a distant highway. No light at all save for the moon and the dim glow from his own doorway. The door to his fallout shelter was nestled against the back wall of his family's house. Peering around the corner of the building, Bilbo gasped in horror as he noted the graffiti coating the brick walls and the smashed out windows indicative of looting. The other nearby houses were all in a similar state of ruin. As far as he could see, the street was long since deserted and ransacked. Nothing of value remained, nor any trace of life.

"It's only been three months!" Bilbo squeaked, panic causing the bile to rise in his throat. "How could this happen?"

"Three months is more then enough time for the world to end," Thorin responded dryly. "The better question is why are you still here?"

"Where else would I go?" Bilbo worried his hands together. "This is my home! The news said to seek shelter and not to come out until the all-clear is given." Someone had tagged the word treasure-hunter on his door and he scrapped absently at the bright green paint. "The radios won't work anymore and there's been no all-clear..."

"Then why did you open the door?" Thorin furrowed his brow, regarding the other man with a solemn curiosity.

"I don't rightly know," Bilbo shrugged, not quite sure if he could voice his loneliness. "It's been so long since I've heard voices other then my own..."

The explanation appeared to be enough or perhaps Thorin was too tired to care. He nodded and glanced back at his nephews, "Night is no time to be out in the open anymore. We were looking for supplies, but we need to get back to our car before it gets any darker."

"Your car? You have a safe place to go then?" Bilbo stalled, curious as to where they were going, and not altogether ready to have them leave.

"The car is home enough for us now," Thorin said softly, casting another look at the two boys, who were huddled close together against the side of the house.

"This might seem strange and I'm not quite sure why I'm offering, but I have food if you'd like," Bilbo stuttered, gesturing absently towards his doorway. "And there's still running water for baths..."

Both boys shot desperate looks at their uncle, the younger offering puppy-dog-eyes and a soft whimper.

"We'll take you up on that offer, Mr. Baggins," Thorin leveled a dark gaze at Bilbo. "But if you even think of trying anything..."

The threat hung in the air, causing Bilbo to shiver inwardly. "What would I do? You're quite a big larger than I am. Plus, you have me out-numbered." He shrugged, "And what kind of person would I be if I hurt a child?"

Thorin laughed darkly, "You really haven't been outside in months, have you?"

Shrugging again, Bilbo turned to the door and stepped inside. Thorin and the boys followed cautiously, and he shut and bolted the door behind them.

...

Once they were ushered inside Bilbo realized he had no idea how to handle his guests. Being locked in solitude for three months had made his already clumsy social skills feel even more lacking. Looking around his makeshift home, he pressed his palms together and exhaled deeply, trying to calm himself. "Right then. I suppose the first thing we do is get you lot some food?" Leaving the others standing awkwardly in the threshold, he moved to the stove and began dumping canned stew into a pot. "No one has any food allergies, do they?"

"Nope! We'll eat about anything at this point!" The youngest boy grinned brightly.

"Thank you, er..." Bilbo frowned. "I'm sorry. It seems you didn't give me your names."

"I'm Kíli!" He pointed to his brother, smile widening in obvious fondness. "And this is Fíli!" The older boy inclined his head slightly.

"Pleased to meet you both, I'm sure." Bilbo nodded to himself, stirring the stew and then moving to find bowls. "You might as well take a seat. The food will be done shortly."

The boys sat close together on the worn sofa, whispering quietly to each other, while Thorin wandered around the small shelter, clearly searching for signs of danger.

"You'll be safe enough," Bilbo said and tried not to feel nervous when Thorin's eyes narrow at him. "It's only me here."

"How did you come by this shelter?" Thorin asked darkly. "Did you find it? Steal it?"

"I am Bilbo Baggins, of the Hobbiton Baggins! I did not steal anything!" He huffed, angry at the accusation. "My family built this entire establishment! The Shire- finest luxury condominiums in Iowa!"

Thorin snorted derisively, "And I'm sure you worked hard to get where you are now..."

"What? Work? Well, no... Of course not... My family, you see..." He stuttered. "I'm a Baggins!"

"That's what I thought," Thorin said with a cold sneer.

"You act like you don't trust me!" Bilbo hissed, highly offended that anyone would respond to his hospitality with judgment and suspicion. "I didn't have to open the door for you! I most certainly did not have to let you in!"

"My first priority is to protect my nephews. I'm sure even you can understand that." Thorin glowered and pushed his dark hair back from his face.

"Even me? What's that supposed to mean?" Bilbo knew an insult when he heard one. "You don't even know me!"

"I know enough," Thorin said, moving his hands to rest on his hips. "The world is falling apart and you are one of the few people with a safe place to hide. And you're in here alone."

"Who else would be in here with me?" Questioned Bilbo with obvious concern. He shifted nervously on the balls of his feet, not wanting to admit his own friendlessness and longing to Thorin.

"Your family? Your friends?" The taller man replied. "Anyone you wished to spare from the fate that's out there!" He motioned towards the door, referring to a world Bilbo no longer understood.

Bilbo sighed, "My parents passed away years ago and I rather expect the people around here think I'm a little too peculiar to make friends with. I have no one." Turning back to the stove, he dished the stew into bowels and handed one out to Thorin. "You'd best eat while it's still warm." Taking the other two bowels, Bilbo walked across the room and handed them to the boys.

"Thank you!" Kíli beamed, digging into the food with such gusto that Bilbo couldn't help but wonder when their last real meal was.

"Yes, thank you," Fíli added, obviously relishing his food, but keeping one eye on his brother, as if to be sure the younger boy had enough to eat.

While his three guests ate in silence, Bilbo puttered around the room, washing the pan and righting the pantry. He wasn't sure how best to handle Thorin, who seemed to dislike him from the onset. The children were easier to understand, looking extremely underfed and unkempt. His heart broke as he watched them eat, both boys licking the last traces of stew from their bowls and fingertips.

When they finished eating, Thorin took his nephews' dishes and brought them to Bilbo at the sink. "Thank you for the meal," He said stiffly. "We haven't been able to find much food as of late."

Bilbo looked at Thorin for a long moment, wondering how much the other man was downplaying their situation. "Why don't I show the boys where the bathroom is? It looks like they haven't had properly baths in weeks." The banked shame in Thorin's eyes told Bilbo he was correct in his assumption.

The way Fíli's eyes lit up when Bilbo showed them the tiny bathroom with its stall shower and porcelain stool was nothing in comparison to the way he smiled when he watched Kíli laugh over his own reflection in the mirror. The younger boy took in the ratty birds-nest of his hair and dark smudges of dirt on his skin, then couldn't stop giggling. It was as if a dam had been broken and the laughter spilled out from his chest, lightening the room in such an infectious way that Bilbo and Fíli couldn't help but laugh with him. Even Thorin poked his head through the door to see what the fuss was about, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips as he watched his youngest nephew. After a few more moments of laughter, the two boys were left to their baths, while Thorin and Bilbo returned to the main room.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you before." The apology sounded awkward, as though Thorin was unused to giving them. "The last few months haven't been easy... being clean and well-fed will help their spirits immensely."

Bilbo nodded slowly, "Everything was easier before the power went out. I'm just glad there is water left to offer you. I keep wondering if that will be the next thing to go."

"Eventually it will. Everything is ending out there," Thorin sighed, rubbing a tired hand over his eyes.

He looked softer in the lamplight, more vulnerable, and Bilbo couldn't help but think he was probably very handsome beneath the layers of grime and worry.

"What exactly is going on? There were news reports at first about a strange sickness out west, then suddenly it was global and they were telling us to hide." Bilbo drummed his fingers together nervously.

"At first no one knew what it was," Thorin said, settling himself into an armchair. "We know it began in California, just a random, unexplained death. Best we can figure, people had been exposed without even knowing it. The symptoms don't start to show for a few days... All it took was someone infected getting on a plane and leaving the city- the country..." His eyes stared off in the distance, "Once the deaths started it was already too late."

Bilbo quaked in his seat and chewed nervously on his lip. "So it is a disease then? That's what the news was starting to say."

"It's more then a disease, it's a damned plague!" Thorin stated, giving his words a moment to sink in. "They call it GOBO Virus. It's contagious briefly just after infection, but it spreads mainly from the corpses. A few days after the person dies, the body starts to release these gases... They don't seem to last long in the air and don't travel far on their own, but once you inhale them..." He shrugged, clearly shaken. "One body in a hospital morgue- the gases get into the ventilation system and it's everywhere in a matter of minutes. The workers are exposed and go home on the trains, the subways..."

"So, it's everywhere?" Bilbo questioned, though in his heart he already knew the answer.

Thorin nodded, "I figure the bigger cities got wiped out the fastest- the higher the population, the more chances to spread. I doubt there's anything left of China now. Or New York."

"What does this... GOBO plague do, exactly?" Bilbo asked nervously, as a heavy weight settled in the pit of his stomach.

"It starts with fever and headaches, but eventually the people seem to have these violent hallucinations and start to attack everyone. They don't appear to notice if they get injured, or even care who they're fighting. It's pure, unmitigated rage." Thorin's eyes darkened, "I guess it's too much pressure on the body and they're usually dead within ten days from respiratory failure. And then they're nothing more then a corpse that infects others."

"Surely people realized what was happening? Why didn't they all stay in their homes, away from any corpses? Why are all the houses here empty!?" Bilbo heard the fearful edge in his voice, but couldn't calm it.

"People panicked," Thorin explained. "There were riots and looting and people were getting killed. It only made things worse. More travel meant more chance of exposure and spreading the damned thing, but people were scared. They fled and they took the GOBO Virus with them." He frowned and raked a hand through his hair. "The infection rate is over 75%, but the people who survive exposure are often killed by the plague victims themselves. The violence in uncanny."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Thorin seemingly lost in his memories and Bilbo trying to come to grips with what he had been told. A plague was spreading across the surface, leaving death and destruction in its wake. Before long Fíli and Kíli joined them, both boys scrubbed clean and dressed in fresh clothing. They sat back down on the couch, Fíli wrapping an arm around his brother's slim shoulders. Kíli dug a small calender out and ticked an 'X' off over the date before tucking it back in his coat pocket for safekeeping.

Bilbo looked at the boys for a moment, then back at Thorin. "How do you know all of this?"

"The news helped a little, before the power went," Thorin answered with a shrug.

"The internet helped more," Fíli added softly, eying the overflowing bookcase with a thinly veiled longing. Kíli yawned and curled sleepily into his brother's side, his eyes drooping heavily.

Thorin nodded, "That's true. The press seemed to be hiding something, but all the conspiracy theorists online actually managed to suss out some solid ideas. The rest we've just figured out as we went."

"If it's so dangerous to travel, what are you doing out there? With two children, no less!"

Fíli shot an irritated look at Bilbo, but said nothing, instead stroking his brother's hair gently.

"My father's name was Thrain," Thorin began. "He ran our family business with an iron first and we thrived under his leadership. Six months ago he headed to the west coast on a business trip. We never heard from him again."

Bilbo leaned forward slightly and waited while Thorin pulled a folded up map out of his coat pocket, spreading it out on the table.

"This map showed up in the mail three months after my father went missing. It was addressed in his handwriting." Thorin stabbed at the map with his finger, indicating a hastily scrawled note: "Mahal's Pride must seek Valinar. What does that even mean?" A frown tugged at his lips. "One week later the deaths started."

"So, you're just going to follow this map and hope to god that you don't end up infected?" Bilbo stammered. "The map could be be a coincidence! It could have nothing to do with this plague!"

"What other choice do we have?" Thorin snapped. "We've got nowhere else to go! And it sure as hell doesn't seem like any help is coming!"

Fíli glanced down at his brother, then back to the arguing adults. "If you don't mind, I think Kíli and I are going to grab some sleep."

Bilbo pointed at the farthest set of bunk beds and nodded, "There are blankets and pillows. Feel free to use whatever you need."

"Thanks," Fíli nudged his brother awake, then guided him over to the beds.

"So..." Bilbo sighed, not knowing what to say.

"So..." Thorin replied, obviously having the same problem.

"Would you mind terribly if I asked what happened to their parents?" Bilbo looked over to see both boys tucked into one of the lower bunks, sound asleep.

Thorin started to refuse, then decided otherwise, "Their father took off years ago, just before Kíli was born. Their mother, Dís, was my younger sister. We lost her in January to cancer."

"I'm so very sorry," Bilbo whispered.

"She held on far longer then she should have," Thorin's eyes were bright with emotion. "In the end there was so much pain... She didn't even recognize her sons anymore."

"Those poor boys!" Bilbo's throat felt tight and his chest ached, as his heart broke all over again for the two motherless children.

Thorin swallowed thickly, his eyes trained on the sleeping figures of his nephews. "They're all I have left. If I could think of a better course of action, I would follow it. But there is nothing else for us to do."

"You could hide away somewhere..." Bilbo tried to ignore the part of his mind that screamed you could hide away here with me.

"And what happens when the supplies run out? What happens when the rest of the world is dead?" Thorin questioned, his hands shaking in exasperation. "No, we're better off if we keep moving. And hopefully we'll find some answers along the way."

Bilbo nodded, quiet for a moment as he turned Thorin's words over in his mind.

"What about you?" Thorin asked. "Are you planning to stay here, buried beneath the ground like you're already a corpse while the world rots away above you?"

Unsure of his answer, Bilbo said nothing.

Eventually, Thorin left to shower and sleep, but Bilbo stayed awake long into the night. He thought over the loneliness in his life and how quickly he had opened himself to these strangers. He found that he admired Thorin's courage and loyalty to his family, and there was no doubt about his feelings towards the boys. Bilbo always loved children- he had wanted a house filled with nieces and nephews and little ones of his own. Now, with no family left and the world at its end, there was very little chance of that ever happening. Still, he wondered if there might be happiness waiting for him if he was brave enough to leave the safety of his fallout shelter and join Thorin and his nephews on their adventure.

...

A/N: Well, there's the set-up... the traveling and action start next chapter!

This is not going to be a direct re-telling of 'The Hobbit'. The company will hit a lot of the same locations, but it's pulling a lot more from the 'Silmarillion' and appendixes. Expect lots of random Middle Earth cameos.

If for some reason you want to follow me on tumblr, I'm PirateColey there... and mostly re-blog Tolkien stuff. :)

Lastly, I want to offer a quick thanks to shinyadoll, who pushed me to actually write this. She is the Kili to my Fili.