A/N I may or may not make this a two parter. I have some ideas that would fit in a continuation but at the same time it could work as a standalone fic. Either way, I hope you enjoy :)

Disclaimer: Sadly, I still don't own the Hobbit.

Bilbo had heard many tales of battle in his childhood. They had always been portrayed as glorious and romanticised back then; the heroes always emerged victorious without so much as a bruise while the villains were either slain or locked away for eternity. How naïve he must have been to lap up those stories and beg for more of them before he retired to bed once. While he had been very young and could not possibly have known about the cruelty of the real world, Bilbo still cringed at how easily his younger self had been engrossed in such tales.

This feeling had never been as intense as it was now, as he looked out at the carnage before him.

Bodies clashed and battered each other with sword and shield, limp forms collapsed to the ground accompanied by harsh screaming and the whistle of a blade and it was not long before the blood that had spilled was as viscous as the wet mud it had been trampled in. Bilbo thanked every deity he could think of for his discovery of the magic ring all those months ago, for it was surely the sole reason for him still being alive. As he had mentioned before, he was no warrior and he couldn't help but wish he'd never been thrust into such brutal territory.

Bilbo ducked and crawled through the mud with effort, fully aware that while the ring could conceal him, it did not grant him immunity to injury. He had already been forced to swerve away from a bloodied axe and had barely been able to contain a cry of horror as he saw it embedded in a young elf's chest instead. He had occasionally attempted to fight back, clutching Sting as if his life depended on it, and had even succeeded in taking down the odd orc. However, he was capable of little else. His best option, for now, seemed to be lying low and steering as clear of the battle as he could manage.

'Easier said than done,' he thought with a groan.

The roars of fighting had eased somewhat, and Bilbo found some relief in the knowledge that he'd at least managed to steer clear of the worst of the carnage. He collapsed against a jagged rock in a heap, gasping as crippling fear crushed down any adrenaline he may have had moments before.

A grunt to his side interrupted his fleeting respite however. For a moment he forgot that he could not possibly be seen and he yelped in fright at the sight of a particularly vicious-looking orc. The creature was already brutally scarred from its conquests, and was most likely weaker for it, but it was still sneering thirstily in the direction of several warring elves not far from where he stood.

Or at least it had been. Until Bilbo's reaction had its head whipping round like an axe and a grating snarl ripped from its throat. The hobbit cursed himself then, and kept Sting close to his chest despite the fact that he was immobilised by his terror and could do little except avoid further detection.

An arrow whizzed past his head and he started, releasing yet another sharp cry. Once he heard the squeal of pain emanate from the orc however, and turned to see a dark arrow embedded in its chest, he found himself releasing a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Bilbo rose onto trembling legs and made to run before a familiar voice rang out and his chest swelled with relief.

"Bilbo? You there?"

Bilbo turned to face the young archer, grinning at the sight of a friendly face before remembering that Kili would hardly see his reaction. He reluctantly removed the ring from his finger and simply smiled meekly while the dwarf laughed as his dishevelled appearance finally became visible to the world.

A number had been done on Kili as well, Bilbo noticed with some shock. The young dwarf had blood trickling from a shallow wound above his eye and dried mud clung to his hands and face to the extent that he was barely recognisable. A once proud braid was now tattered and sticky with either mud or blood, neither of which Bilbo particularly wanted to think about. Kili's humour faded almost as quickly as it had appeared and his expression became grave as he addressed the hobbit. "Where is Thorin? Have you seen him at all?"

Bilbo simply shook his head, not trusting himself to speak as he remembered that everyone he'd become acquainted with - to the extent of thinking them among his friends – these past months were facing the same hell as he was. Kili growled in frustration and ran his fingers frantically through his hair, and if Bilbo did not know any better of the young dwarf's bravery he could swear that he was trembling. He eventually found his voice, edging closer to the younger dwarf as if to provide some form of comfort. "Were you not with him?"

Kili shook his head, biting his lip as he struggled to keep his composure. The sight of it was frightening on the features of one who was usually so merry and confident. "No, I was sent to the back of the crowd. Thorin thought I would be safer there…" He laughed harshly at that before spinning to face the hobbit properly. "I've seen too many die here, Bilbo. I will not abandon him now, nor my brother. I cannot!"

Bilbo nodded in understanding, knowing better than to offer Kili some feeble words of comfort. They would hardly suffice, not with the possibility that both of Kili's kin could be lying dead on the battlefield for all they knew. Some bravery flared in the hobbit's chest, and despite every instinct within him screaming to do otherwise, he walked over to Kili's side with purpose. "I'll help you find them. I may as well make myself useful."

Kili shook his head sharply, taking a shaky step back before faltering. The hobbit's offer seemed to have caught him off guard for it took him a long while to find his voice. "No. No, I cannot ask that of you." He looked off into the distance, anguish slipping into the features as he took in the main bulk of the battle as it raged on without them, before glancing in the direction of his lost mountain. Bilbo noticed that his brows were furrowing slightly, as they often did when he was in deep thought. "Put that ring of yours back on and head to the mountain. I heard there was a healing camp being set up there. It should be safer for you." He faced Bilbo properly once more and gave him the most sincere smile he could muster under the circumstances. "The battlefield is no place for a hobbit."

Bilbo frowned as Kili choked on his words. On closer inspection he noticed something that made his blood run cold. For all his earlier bravado when it came to fighting against orcs and goblins, the young dwarf was absolutely terrified here. It was hardly surprising, now that Bilbo thought about it. Kili had been thrust into the sheer brutality of battle for perhaps the first time in his short life, and he was quickly realising that it was in no way glorious or thrilling as he had been led to believe. It was harsh and frightening and sickening in ways that neither the dwarf nor Bilbo could begin to comprehend and this knowledge was shaking Kili to his core. The sight of it caused a lump to form in Bilbo's throat.

Kili had been right. The battlefield was in no way a place for a hobbit. Nor was it a place for a child.

Kili recovered himself and made to move, nodding at the hobbit with a sickening sense of finality. "Better get going, Mister Boggins."

Bilbo laughed at the familiar mispronunciation, recalling the day from long ago when he'd first heard it, before he wandered over to Kili's side once more and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. The dwarf tensed under his touch, and refrained from looking directly into the hobbit's eyes. "I wish you luck, Master Kili." A smirk tugged at the younger's lips and he finally brought his gaze up to meet Bilbo's. "I'm sure you'll find them both."

Kili smiled weakly before breaking away, swallowing back any tears that threatened as he thought of his kin once more. "I'd better be off then."

Bilbo nodded in agreement and stepped back, reaching for the ring in his pocket. He had lingered here for too long, and if Kili had heard correctly there were wounded warriors to whom he could provide aid should he reach the mountain.

He turned in that general direction without another word. He refused to say goodbye, too aware of the fact that it could be the very last he shared with his friend. However he had barely made it five steps in the direction of Erebor before the gruff, familiar voice he'd learned to associate with the dwarven prince returned. "Oh, and Mister Baggins?"

Bilbo turned to face Kili, surprised at how quickly the other had been able to bury his fear, and the hobbit could not help but smile as he noticed the hopeful glint in the other's eyes.

"I'll meet you there."