Summary: When the dwarves of Erebor enter Mirkwood, the story that you thought you knew takes some dramatic turns. This is the Hobbit, the way that I envision the movies may be, but I will do my best to keep this book compliant. AU, if you wish to consider it that way.
Disclaimer: I am not J.R.R. Tolkien, sadly, and do not own any of his characters or any aspect of his world. I am merely playing in his sandbox.
Reclaiming Erebor:
Bilbo was a nervous wreck, to say the least. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his outer coat, curled around the small golden ring he had recently acquired. The hobbit caught his large foot on a root that erupted from the ground and found himself on the forest floor with a yelp. He sat there for a moment, blinking before standing up and brushing off his clothes. He shook his head lightly to clear his thoughts. He took a few deep breaths and looked around to gain his bearings. It was difficult to see anything in the dark; All Bilbo could make out were the shadowy shapes of trees shooting out of the ground and erupting into the sky.
He and the company of dwarves had entered the dark gloom of Mirkwood a mere few days before but to the hobbit, it felt as if it had been an eternity; it was difficult for Bilbo to keep track of just how long they had been walking in the forest. The trees were tall and dense and allowed for little sunlight to pass through the leaves. Oh, how dearly he missed the sun's warm touch! The hobbit truly did feel as if he would scream if he were forced to spend one more day in the godforsaken wood but he bit his tongue and did his best to keep a cheery smile on his face for the sake of the dwarves that looked decidedly downtrodden.
Typically, there would be an abundance of friendly chatter and banter between the members of the company but once they had entered Mirkwood, a hush had fallen over them as suddenly as a curse. It was an eerie quiet and Bilbo did not care for it one bit. He missed the days when the group was merry and there would be laughter roaring from around a warm crackling fire. Thorin had decided that the group needed to travel as quickly as possible through the dank forest so together they marched quickly and spent only a few hours of rest every night. Currently, Bilbo began to take notice of the effects that this tiresome traveling had on his companions. They had been walking slowly despite Thorin's best efforts and they each grew more weary and more irritable with every step that they took.
Spirits were been low; it was clear for anyone who looked at the company that they were tired and were in need of a good meal and a night of rest. Unfortunately, Thorin was tireless, fueled by his desire to see his home reclaimed and he would allow for no lag in their pace. In an act of mercy, Thorin called for a halt and turned to face his company, "We shall rest for the night. Bofur, Bombur, see about getting us some food.
Everyone else, get some rest." There was an unusual note of sympathy in his voice; perhaps he was feeling the strain of their trek at long last.
Bilbo looked ahead to the front of the group to glance at their leader. In all outward appearances, Thorin looked as immovable and stern as ever with no visible sign of fatigue on his features. He stood poised with an air of regality and with an aura that commanded respect from his men; if he told them to march onward, no one would disobey him. There was a newly grown wariness that showed itself in the lines on Thorin's face; however, Bilbo had to look closely to see them. There were dark circles under his eyes that betrayed that he had endured many sleepless nights recently.
The hobbit took comfort in the knowledge that their leader was all right for the time being considering how injured he had been from the company's battle with the wargs. Bilbo took this moment to mutter another thank you to the eagles who had saved them from the attack under his breath. He still felt the anxiety coursing through his body as if he were still standing over Thorin's unconscious form, wringing his hands and wondering if he would survive or not. Bilbo still shuddered to think of it. Thorin turned and looked over his shoulder and raised a dark eyebrow at Bilbo who flushed and quickly moved his gaze over to the young nephews of the king under the mountain.
Bright gold hair mixed with dark as two figures hunched together, one supporting the other. Fíli was looking at his younger brother with the same expression that Bilbo had laid upon Thorin a few days prior as he looked at his younger brother's shoulder. Something was clearly amiss; Kíli's face had gone abnormally pale as he clutched onto his brother and his breathing grew ragged. None of the other dwarves seemed to notice either Kíli's plight or Bilbo picking his way over to the brothers. "I'm fine, Fíli, stop fussing," Kíli ordered his brother. He was trying his upmost to maintain some shred of his dignity by standing on his own. The golden haired brother released him so Kíli could test his strength; the young dwarf took two shaky steps before crumpling to the ground with a small cry of pain. Both Fíli and Bilbo rushed over to help him up from the ground, matching expressions of concern etched onto their faces. Together, they brought Kíli to his feet where he stood hunched over with his brows drawn together and his lips curled into a wince.
He was breathing even more haggardly than before; his hair fell in his face as his hand rose to cover his shoulder. He let out a low growl of pain as his brother moved him to sit on a root that had snaked its way out of the ground. Bilbo's eyes narrowed with concern as he neared the two dwarves, "What's happened to you, lad?"
"Nothing to concern yourself with, Mr. Baggins," was Kíli's short reply.
"Nothing to-?" Fíli scoffed at his younger brother, "Kíli, you're hurt! It's obviously not nothing."
Kíli looked slightly affronted at his brother's harsh tone, he had definitely expected it from Thorin when it came time to tell him, but never from Fíli. He frowned as he looked at Bilbo "When we were fighting to escape the wargs, one of them managed to give me a good scratch as a parting gift. I'm fine, really," he added at his brother's scrutinizing stare. "I do know how to care for wounds, I cleaned it as best I could and I bandaged it up. I just need to rest and I'll be as right as rain in the morning."
Fíli fixed his brother with a skeptical look but Bilbo smiled softly at Kíli and gave his knee an affectionate pat; he believed him. After a few moments of sitting, the dwarf's breathing had already grown even again and the lines of pain had been erased from his face. Color had even returned to the face of the young dwarf. "If you're sure, lad, but maybe you should tell Thorin."
A familiar mischievous smirk slid its way onto Kíli's face. His eyes twinkled with mirth as he shook his head, "No, let's not worry him."
With a shake of his head in return, Bilbo smiled warmly at the brothers. He turned away from them and pulled his pack off of his shoulders and set it down on the ground with a light groan. He didn't realize how tired he had been until he pulled out his thin sleeping pad and set it on the ground. Bilbo gratefully lowered himself down onto it and slid his large pack behind his head to use as a pillow. His eyes fell shut almost immediately as he laid back and he was moments away from a deep sleep before his stomach grumbled loudly. Bilbo slowly opened his eyes and sat up. The hobbit stood up and lazily trudged his way over to where Bofur was tending to a small fire, trying to tempt it to grow larger. The kind dwarf smiled brightly at the hobbit as he approached, "Hello, little master." His eyes shined merrily, reflecting the shifting glow of the fire. He was chuckling at his own joke; he was not much taller than Bilbo and he knew it, "How can I be of service?"
Bilbo rubbed his stomach lightly and curled his lips upward, "Any chance of getting something to eat?"
There was a pot set nearby the fire with steam flowing out from it; It didn't smell particularly good, but it was warm and it was edible which was what mattered to Bilbo. He did not complain when Bofur pushed a small bowl of the stew into his hands. Almost as quickly as he had gotten it, the food was gone, devoured within moments. Bilbo, along with the rest of the dwarves who were standing around, clutching now empty bowls looked at Bofur with matching expressions of curiosity, all asking the same question; was there more food?
Bofur shook his head and smiled sadly at his comrades, "Sorry, lads. I'm afraid that's all we've got for tonight."
The dwarves dispersed, each going back to the comfort of their sleeping pads but Thorin and Bilbo remained behind. The silver and ebony haired dwarf fixed his stern gaze onto Bofur who looked extremely apologetic, "I am sorry, Thorin. We lost almost all of our supplies when the wargs attacked and now that we're deeper into the forest, it's been more difficult to find food."
Thorin nodded curtly, understanding and assessing the weight and importance of what he had just been told. His frown grew deeper as he realized that food had grown tight and the dwarves would soon begin to starve unless he figured out a solution. His mind raced, he did not know what vegetation was edible, but from what Bombur and Bofur brought back from their foraging trips there did not seem to be much, and the company had not encountered any game in the forest yet. He now knew that he would have to lead his men quickly to the other side of Mirkwood lest they all starve underneath the forest's dark canopy. He spent a moment wishing that Gandalf was there to give him guidance, but true to the enigmatic ways of wizards, he had turned back, claiming that there were matters he needed to investigate. Thorin did not know when, where, or even if they would see the weathered old wizard again. It was no matter, Thorin would find a way to get the loyal dwarves through and to Erebor, he was sure.
His voice seemed to rumble in the oppressive quiet, "You have done all you can, Bofur, thank you. You should get some rest." Thorin clapped a hand onto the other dwarf's shoulder and cracked a small smile, almost as if to reassure both of them that they would survive. Bofur pulled the hat from his head and bowed his head toward his king, smiling at him affectionately. With one final squeeze of Bofur's shoulder, Thorin released him and the toymaker went of to his comforting pad that was lain near the warmth of his brothers.
Thorin turned next to Bilbo, smiling kindly at him as well. Bilbo opened his mouth to speak but before he could, Thorin held up a hand, effectively silencing the poor hobbit. "I know what you are about to say, burglar. I am rested enough; I shall take the watch. Get rest while you can."
Bilbo opened and closed his mouth a few times. How could Thorin have possibly known that he was about to insist that he take the time to get the rest that he needed? Again, Bilbo opened his mouth to protest but Thorin sent him such a glowering stare that it was all Bilbo could do to turn on his heels and settle himself on his pad.
Again, as soon as his head hit the ground, Bilbo all but instantly fell asleep.
In the morning, Bilbo awoke to the very welcome sight of a little bit of sunlight streaming through the highest layer of leaves. Bilbo pushed himself up from the ground and set to work rolling up his pack and getting ready to leave. The other dwarves were beginning to stir as well, rising with yawns and stretching limbs. He found his gaze drifting over to where Kíli stood, surveying the ground, and making sure nothing had been left behind. He appeared well, so Bilbo dismissed his worries. He had spoken true; with a little bit of rest, the young dwarf had seemingly done much recovery.
Thorin spoke with a raised voice to call attention to himself, "Is everyone ready? We move out!" He began their journey for the day with long confident strides that the rest of the dwarves eagerly followed for their willing hearts believed in the strength of their leader.
Throughout the days march, Bilbo's thoughts never strayed far from how badly he wanted to get out of this dark forest. His heart longed for sunlight and he wanted desperately to feel the wind against his skin. He rolled his eyes as the unusual group walked past yet another large, imposing tree that stretched its way to the sky. He had seen enough trees the past few days to last a lifetime and he longed to get back to the little hills of his home. The forest looked the same in very direction he looked; long, spindly roots that snaked their way out of the ground that surrounded thick trunks that were covered with dark bark. The very forest itself held an aura of mystery and danger to it that told Bilbo that they should not tarry a moment longer than necessary in that place. There was an ominous and oppressing gloom that loomed over the forest that left Bilbo with a pit in his stomach as he looked anxiously over to his companions.
The Shire; Bilbo would have been sorry to admit that his heart still longed for his peaceful home and no one could blame the curly haired hobbit.
A/N: Hi, guys! Thanks for reading; this is my very first fanfic and I'm really excited for the things I have planned! So you know, I plan to keep this updated at least once a week, if not possibly more. Please leave a comment or PM if you wish to give me some feedback, constructive criticism is always welcome!