Arms
Bilbo didn't cry out, didn't gasp, didn't try to fight back. His heart started to pound, even more quickly than it had been, feeling like it was about to fly out through his chest, whilst his stomach did a flip-flop before then falling to his feet.
He was helpless and he knew it.
Compared to three trolls, he was an ant to them. They could squash him beneath a finger and yet, all they were doing were planning to pull his arms off. Although, it was enough. The feeling of two trolls tugging on either arm or leg, ready to pull him in half at the slightest breath, wasn't exactly a good feeling.
"Lay down your arms... or we'll rip his off."
Bilbo stared down at his companions, at his nearly appointed company. Thirteen others that not only did not know him, but did not believe in him and didn't trust him, either. Lying down their arms for one little hobbit that wasn't going to do anything for their quest more than hinder them... Why would they do that? They had to protect themselves. They had to do what was best for their journey and they weren't going to give up the fight for him.
He was going to die like this. He was going to die, by being pulled apart by these foul trolls. He was never going to see the Shire again, he was never going to have another biscuit by the hearth and he wasn't going to see his warm bed again and the last memory he was going to have was being covered in troll mucous and staring down at the Dwarves and hoping that they'd be okay and wishing them well on a journey that Bilbo had no part to join in the first place -
Thorin raised his sword...
... and twisted it back down, digging it deep into the ground beneath them.
Bilbo's eyes widened slightly. An imperceptible sigh slipped from his lips as the rest of the Dwarves threw down their weapons. He had no more of an idea why they had done that than he had previously, but he was eternally grateful.
And then seconds later, he was stuffed into a sack and everything didn't look so rose-coloured, after all.
It was only a few minutes later that a realisation hit Bilbo like a ton of bricks: the Dwarves had laid down their weapons for him. Not only their weapons, but their lives. They were willing to risk themselves to save him, a lowly hobbit.
... Well, he may not be a burglar, but he was a hobbit and hobbits didn't let a favour go by unseen.
He struggled to his feet hurriedly. If dawn turned trolls to stone, then he had to stall for time.
The Dwarves had saved his life; it was time for him to save theirs.
I'm currently working on a Hobbit sick!fic (because DoS comes out tomorrow at midnight and I've only seen it once! 3) and watching aUJ and the look on Bilbo's face during this scene made me have to write a drabble. I equally love the part where Thorin thinks the Elves are attacking in Rivendell and all of them push Bilbo into the middle of their ranks to protect him... but anyway, just this drabble for now.
I do not own The Hobbit. Thank you!