The Company woke to find that the eagles had left them a gift; a large deer they had hunted and killed lay outside the camp. Eager for the fresh meat, the dwarves wasted no time skinning and preparing it. "Here, Bilbo!" Bofur called. "Ever skinned a deer before? 'S real easy, c'mon!" Bilbo blanched at the sight of the dead animal, and tried politely to refuse, but Bofur, who was a very kind soul, was also incredibly dense, sensing the hobbit's hesitancy as shyness rather than disgust. It was only Dori's interference that saved Bilbo from the nauseating task. The older dwarf unwrapped the bandage that he had done the night before to clean the goblin bite. "Ugh, Dori, I think ye messed up somewhere! Is it supposed to turn green?" Bofur exclaimed. Fili and Kili turned to look, grimacing when they saw it.

"I could do without the chatter, thank you Bofur," Dori scolded as he shooed them away, "and I'm sure he could, too!" Bilbo did his best to hold still as Dori drew out a knife and lanced the wound, draining it until it bled cleanly before bandaging it again.

Thorin, standing while Gandalf rewrapped his torso, made up his mind then. He announced that, while they could not stay at the eyrie for long, they could at least stay to rest and recover for another day. For a moment, Bilbo thought Thorin would forget all about teaching him to wield a sword, but that could not be farther from the truth- Dwalin was ordered to see to his next lesson, supervised by Thorin, while Bombur stoked the fire for breakfast. The sight of the small, meek hobbit facing off against the tall, grim-faced dwarf drew everyone's attention, and quite a few laughs. Balin, however, shook his head. "It's hardly fair, pitting him up against a war veteran of Dwalin's caliber. Why not one of the younger ones?" But his comments went unheeded. The dwarves all sat in a circle around the pair, forming a small arena.

"What do you mean, pitting me up against him?" Bilbo asked warily.

Balin gave him a hard, but not unkind, look. "We believe the best way to teach someone how to fight is to start fighting immediately."

That certainly explained Thorin's actions last night, but it hardly comforted him now. Bilbo swallowed, his mouth dry, and did his best not to run screaming. Of all the dwarves, Dwalin was the one he felt the most detached from; brooding and intimidating, the brawny warrior had spoken very little to him, and half the time he had hardly recognized that the hobbit was even there.

"Right then, laddie!" Dwalin shouted, drawing his sword. "Now, when ye grip a sword-"

"It should be like shaking the hand of a friend, neither too firm nor too soft," Bilbo finished softly, reciting Thorin's words from the previous night. He glanced to where Thorin was sitting, feeling a rush of pride as his friend smiled approvingly. He turned back just in time to block a swing from Dwalin.

"Good! Ye've learned somethin', now yer next lesson is to focus." A barrage of strikes followed. Desperately, Bilbo flung his sword here and there, wherever he saw Dwalin's blade coming; soon, however, his arms began to ache, his wounded shoulder began to burn, and he felt himself getting slower and slower. Just when he thought he was going to faint, his sparring partner stopped. "Yer afraid," the dwarf said.

"What- Well of course I'm afraid!" Bilbo sputtered. "I'd have to be insane not to be! You could cut me in half with one swing!"

Dwalin chuckled. "Not just of me. Yer afraid of pain, the pain that jumps up yer arms every time yer sword comes in contact with yer enemy's. The pain is going to come no matter what ye do. Don't be afraid of it, hate it!"

"Hate?"

"Aye, lad, be angry! That fear makes ye take a very defensive stance, but ye can't defend forever. Hate the bastard swingin' at ye and swing back at him! Strike at everything that's ever made ye afraid! Come on, now, be angry! Like this!" Dwalin's lips curled back in a ferocious snarl as he threw his head back and roared aloud, the echoes reverberating around the mountainside and hanging in the air as a challenge.

He hardly felt he could stand up to the challenge, but, determined to try anyway, Bilbo did the same. He closed his eyes, tensed his shoulders, and screamed. Every nightmare that haunted his sleep, every fear he ever had, every frustration he felt, every ache and pain he suffered fueled his war cry. When he opened his eyes and gasped for air, he saw Dwalin smiling in astonishment. The other dwarves applauded from where they sat, and even Gandalf looked surprised.

"Good, lad! Wonderful!" Dwalin laughed. "How d'ye feel?"

Bilbo panted, "I feel... dizzy." He hardly meant for his yell to be so loud, but the effects were astounding. The blood rushed to his head, his pain was barely noticeable anymore, and, most importantly, he was no longer afraid.

He was prepared for the next onslaught from Dwalin, fending as well as he could. As they swung, Dwalin shouted different words of advice to him; "Don't lean forward, ye'll lose yer balance!", "Move yer feet!", "Don't step out from behind yer sword!" Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Dwalin halted.

Bilbo panted like a dog, distressed to find that Dwalin had hardly broken a sweat. "How'd I do?" he asked, wiping his forehead on his sleeve.

"Well, certainly not the worst I've ever seen. Ye have quick eyes and good reflexes, but no stamina. That'll change soon enough, a few more spars ought to put some muscle on yer bones. Give it time, we'll make a warrior outta ye yet, lad." Dwalin winked at him, thumped him on the back, then stalked off to breakfast with the other dwarves.

Bilbo sighed and straightened himself with a small groan before following. Things could have gone a lot worse, he supposed.

A voice behind him made him jump slightly. "You have earned his respect." It was Thorin.

"You think so? I'm still not sure he's forgiven me for the whole 'skin the dwarves first' debacle with the trolls."

Thorin smiled. "If he hadn't before, he certainly has now. His interest in training you has shown that."

"I don't suppose you have any tips? To help me do better next time?"

Thorin pondered this while they sat. Finally, he said, "Relax, balance yourself, keep your elbows in, and," he leaned closer to murmur in the hobbit's ear, "you're much smaller than most opponents you'll ever face, and certainly a lot smaller than Dwalin, so use your speed and your size to your advantage and get in closer to strike."

Bilbo blinked. "You want me to get closer? To... To that?" he stammered incredulously.

"You asked for my advice, now you have it." Thorin chuckled softly as the hobbit cast a very apprehensive look at Dwalin. Suddenly Thorin realized, Bilbo's hand was in his pocket again. This was becoming rather annoying. There was something in that pocket, something that Bilbo obviously found comfort in, and he could not even begin guess what it was. "Would whatever you have in your pocket help you in battle?" he asked.

Bilbo twitched slightly, obviously caught off guard. He recovered marvelously. "I take it you want to guess again?" he asked, that mischievous glint in his eyes again.

Thorin's eyes narrowed. "It would be far easier if you told me."

Bilbo grinned broadly. "Easier, yes, but not nearly as entertaining." Yes, it would be easier, but somehow he did not feel that now was the right time to tell anyone about it.

As he watched the hobbit smiling there, Thorin would deny any change in his feelings. His heart did not just skip a beat. His hands did not feel clammy at all. He learned that this hobbit was disarming, now he needed to learn to focus. He glanced away and huffed to clear his thoughts. "You find me entertaining." Perhaps not the best thing he could have said, but it was the first thing out of his mouth.

"Not you, no," Bilbo said quickly, "I mean, the whole guessing game."

"Has anyone else tried to guess?"

Bilbo hesitated. "Well, no. You're the only one I've allowed to guess, actually."

Why did that fill Thorin with a sense of pride? Why did he suddenly have the urge to wrap his arm around his friend's shoulders? He shook it off and guessed. "Would it be one of those buttons you lost from your waistcoat?" A silly guess; a button was not a very worthy secret.

Bilbo glanced down. "No, it's not one of those. If it were, I'd have sewn it back on by now." He held up three fingers and pulled one down. "Two more."

They were interrupted for a moment when they were handed bowls of venison stew. "One of Bombur's spoons?" Thorin tried again.

"He'd have me flogged if I dared to steal one of those!" the hobbit said through a mouthful of stew. "One more guess, if you can."

"How do I know there is anything in your pocket at all? You could be trying to trick me," Thorin grumbled.

"Because the Gollum guessed nothing and was wrong." Bilbo looked up at him, brown eyes full of innocence. "You don't have to guess, you know."

"Will you tell me, then?"

"Perhaps one day."