The Crawling Shadows
"This forest feels... sick. As if a disease lies upon it."
In hindsight, Bilbo should have known better than to step hairy foot in Mirkwood. The whole forest hummed with something... unnatural, it wasn't even that the trees themselves were twisted into painful looking shapes, and the bark seemed to flake from the trunks like dead skin, it was just a feeling that the hobbit got when he approached the Elven Gate.
"Is there no way around it?"
Gandalf confirmed his fears, no, there was no way around. Unless they wanted to go 200 miles north or twice that distance south.
That wasn't an option, Durin's day was close, and if the company wanted to find the way into the Lonely mountain, then they needed to be there when the light hit the keyhole.
They'd all struggled too hard to miss it. Thorin had waited too long, and Bilbo knew that to deny him that would be the worst thing anyone or anything could possibly do.
But the situation became twice as grim when their wizard announced he was leaving them Gandalf did have a nasty habit of disappearing whenever the fancy took him. Although this time around, he stayed at least to say goodbye, but he didn't say where he was going and when he would be back.
Bilbo couldn't help but feel a bit betrayed, and Thorin certainty didn't try to hide his disapproval.
The look on the old man's was grave indeed. "I would not do this unless I had to."
The hobbit couldn't possibly know what was going on in the wizard's mind, but that look assured him that, whatever he was going to do, it was of great importance. Before he saddled his horse, he gave the hobbit a long glance and declared that the journey had changed him, and Bilbo didn't disagree.
He very nearly told Gandalf about... the ring he'd taken, no found in the goblin tunnels.
The hobbit knew little about black magic, but he had seen enough evil on this trip to be able to spot it when it reared its ugly head. This ring... it smacked of something not right, and the sensible Baggins had been kicking up a fuss about it ever since the ring came into his possession.
Gandalf needs to know about this!
But, of course, his Took side begged to differ.
Why? Its nobody's business but ours.
That's just it! The ring isn't ours! We stole it-
So? did it REALLY belong to Gollum? What was a creature like that doing with an enchanted ring anyway? He probably stole it first-
It doesn't matter! It's got evil in it! And Gandalf knows about these things-
Yes... but what harm can it do to hold on to it for a LITTLE bit longer? Besides, looking at this forest, we might well need it in the near future.
Bilbo changed his mind at the last second about telling the wizard about the ring, and watched him ride away into the distance, grey robes flying in the wind.
Thorin pressed for everyone to move forward, anxious to reach the door. And Bilbo didn't disagree, the sooner they went in, the sooner they would be out and that much closer to the mountain.
And the dragon.
Smaug the Terrible hadn't plagued Bilbo as much as you would expect, there was more than enough happening on the journey to occupy his thoughts, so he supposed it hadn't actually sunk in that he would be sneaking into a dragon's den.
The word incineration came to mind, and the hobbit felt his fingers and toes became numb.
Speak of the devil, Bofur came to walk beside the hobbit and bumped his shoulder with his own.
"You alright then, Lad?" he asked good naturedly.
Bilbo didn't really know how to respond to that, he didn't want to dismiss Bofur's good intentions with a moody 'no', but didn't feel like faking a smile and saying 'yes' either.
In the end he compromised and shrugged his shoulders indifferently, "As well a be expected."
The dwarf's lip quirked. "Aye. Same here." he looked about him. "I tell ye, this place gives me the willies, and we're not even all the way in yet."
The hobbit looked behind him at the disappearing elf gate with a sinking feeling, that was there only escape route, and it was fading from view.
He sighed and walked forward and continued to chat idly with Bofur. He was grateful for the friendship they had, even if he dwarf could be a little... too enthusiastic when describing scenes of mass slaughter at Moira and the overwhelming destruction of Smaug's wrath.
Bilbo knew he wasn't doing it deliberately, but now he knew better than to ask for a story from Bofur.
Thorin, on the other hand, told fantastic stories, when he was in the mood for sharing that is.
The dwarf hadn't been... especially grumpy as of late. But he had been more distant.
It made sense, the king obviously had much to contemplate.
But we still don't like it
Oh hush
He walked, as usual, at the front of his company, his furry coat moving in rhythm with his broad, muscular shoulders. Occasionally, he would look back to his companions then carry on forward.
Bilbo caught his eye, once, but nothing came of it.
Maybe that was for the best.
–-
The forest was making Thorin nervous.
And that fact alone did not bode well.
The king did not get nervous, or anxious, or unsure.
None of the above were applicable in normal circumstances.
Thorin did feel apprehension, and he might feel reserve about a situation, but he didn't allow his emotions to cloud his judgement. As a leader, he had to be disciplined.
His dwarves needed to see that he was in control, simply for their reassurance if nothing else. Seeing someone you look up to go to pieces was not a pleasant sight to behold... and Thorin had first hand experience in such things.
Still, he couldn't deny that this place was disquieting.
Thorin wondered how his company were fairing, and he felt regret that in order for them to reach Erabor he had to drag them into this ill wood.
But it couldn't be helped, and Thorin tried to put all of his energy into keeping on the path. It was tricky, for a few scary moments, it seemed to vanish under his feet, completely concealed by fallen leaves. Then, the little light that shone through the canopy would shine off the dull stone and he would let out a private breath of relief.
There were also elves to worry about. Not just any elves either, these were his elves.
Thranduil.
Thorin was not fond of the term 'tree-shagger', it wasn't a particularly clever insult, and was far too childish for him to use.
So he created his own: Pointed eared bastard, Son of an Orc, Tree-humping pervert.
Alright. So maybe he wasn't quite above insinuating that elves copulated with trees. But honestly, in the dark, could you really tell the difference?
Thorin prayed to Mahal that he didn't lay eyes on that traitorous elf, for he was not sure that he could stop himself from wrapping his hands around Thranduil's throat and throttling him. But that would nothing compared to the pain his people felt.
But it would be satisfying.
It didn't help his mood that the Wizard had, once again, abandoned them for an apparent greater cause elsewhere.
Although Thorin found Gandalf to be trying at times, especially with his quietly smug attitude and his refusal to say anything without making it sound as if he was giving out eternal pearls of wisdom. Still, he proved to be a very useful ally, and Thorin was willing to put up with the eccentric old fellow if it meant they had magical protection.
Of course, that very protection was now riding away to an unknown location. Leaving Thorin and his companions at the mercy of whatever lurked in this dismal wood.
The king could not deny that their Hobbit-burglar had spoken true when he said the forest felt sick.
Speaking of which.
Despite his better judgement, he took a moment just to glance over his shoulder as casually as he could, to check on his companions, and his gaze also fell upon the furry footed creature.
He was, as usual, at the back of the group, chatting to the toy maker with an easy half smile on his soft features, despite the unpleasant surroundings.
That... displeased Thorin. For some reason, whatever the reason, he didn't like the fact that Bofur could make Master Baggins smile so easily.
The stern, serious part of him reasoned that it was because there was no place for such foolhardiness now, this was no sunny mountain road, this was Mirkwood, crawling with elves and any manner of horrid things.
But the quieter, largely untouched (for Thorin was afraid to venture there) softer part of him suggested that wasn't the case. And instead, he felt the way he did because he should be the one making the hobbit-burglar smile.
The king huffed, it was a ridiculous notion.
In any case, the recovery of his people's lost homeland was his top priority and it did not do to get distracted by wants the flesh. Even if it had been many, many years since he felt anything close to what he felt about Master Baggins at this moment.
His feelings were not as simple as lust, the kind brought upon by months without sharing bed-joys with someone. Thorin knew what he was feeling was more complex, although, that wasn't to say that lust didn't play any part in it.
When he first saw Bilbo Baggins, with his golden brown curled hair, and bright, unsure eyes that reminded Thorin of a forest after a soft rain fall, he had felt a hungry stirring within himself that was not certainly not proper.
Maybe if he'd been the first of the dwarves to arrive at the little hobbit hole... perhaps events might have gone a different way.
He met Bilbo's eyes, just a for the most fleeting of moments, and gave what he thought was a reassuring smile. But the hobbit looked away as soon as their glances had met, so he may well have missed it.
Well.
No time to dwindle on that now, Thorin had to concentrate on keeping all of his friends safe, if they lost the path, they were as good as dead.
And none of them would ever see the lonely Mountain again.