Bilbo, unfortunately, did not throttle Thorin as he'd promised himself. He did, however, argue with the stubborn man until blue in the face over the ridiculously high – and entirely unnecessary – dangers of the downtown D.C area (aka: hell).
When he awoke the next morning, he was relieved to find that some of his 'reasonings' must have sunk into Thorin's thick skull, because the Company was moving on as soon as everyone had packed up their belongings.
Naturally however, getting out of the city turned out to be harder than getting in and after cutting through the ghoul infested nightmare that was Chevy Chase Metro, the Company found themselves in a gun-blazing showdown against a group of raiders that had made camp on the Metro's doorstep – ironically called Friendship Heights.
"Blast it." Bilbo grouched, yanking his arm back behind the safety of the wall and reloading his handgun, which had clicked to empty again.
"Master Baggins?"
Bilbo ignored the bullets whizzing over his head and looked up to meet Thorin's gaze, one brow raised questioningly.
"How many rounds do you have left?"
"Er...about forty-eight, I think."
Thorin cursed. "We're running low on ammo. We need to flush them out – quickly."
Bilbo snorted, firing blindly over the wall. "Tell me something I don't know."
Before Thorin could open his mouth, to no doubt retort with a snarky remark, there was a whistling-like woosh and Bilbo found himself suddenly flat on his back, Thorin's heavy weight lying flush on top of him.
Moments later came the sounds of an explosion several hundred yards away.
"Thorin," Bilbo's voice came shocked and breathy in the sudden silence. "they have a missile launcher."
"Tell me something I don't know." Was the wry reply, and Bilbo pointedly refused to shiver over the gravelly voice spoken directly into his ear. Honestly, there was a time and place for such things, and this was certainly neither.
"Oof!" Bilbo huffed, trying and failing to shove Thorin's weight off him. The other man paying him no attention, hand's moving swiftly as he shared signed words with Dwalin across the way.
"Oh do get off!" He hissed, by now thoroughly annoyed as the sounds of gunfire resumed around them.
Finally, Thorin rolled off of him and Bilbo scrambled for cover over by the Metro's escalator; a bullet streaming past his ear to thump into the mound of rubble near where they'd just been laying.
The rest of the Company – thankfully unharmed – were on the move too, forming a semi-circle around the raider's camp and sheltering behind what little cover there was.
As it so happens, it was then that another missile was launched and as the Company ducked, every one of them, including Bilbo, missing the raider sneaking along the side of a low wall.
Bilbo's notice of the approaching danger came in the form of a shadow, but it was too little too late, and with an outraged squeak, he was hauled to his feet and the barrel of a gun thrust beneath his chin.
"Drop your weapons," The raider, apparently a female, snarled. "or the little-one gets it!"
Little-one? Bilbo thought indignantly. He may be the shortest member of the Company, but he wasn't that small, thank you very much.
From his vantage point, Bilbo could now see that there were five raiders and really, five against fourteen should not have been so difficult a number to overcome. But, he supposed, they did have the advantage by way of better cover and that blasted missile launcher.
From where he stood as hostage, Bilbo could also see the glowering look Thorin bestowed upon him and he matched it with an accusatory glare of his own, pointedly ignoring how his heart beat faster with fear.
Thorin would surely leave him to die, Bilbo was certain. He may have joined the Company because of his slight frame, small enough to fit between debris the rest of them couldn't, small enough to fit between the cracks in Erebor's stone so that he could scout out the mine and report back to Thorin on the inner workings of Smaug's take over. But, the Capital Wasteland had an abundance of people who were born shorter and thinner than the rest, finding someone to replace him couldn't be that difficult, or time consuming. So no, he had no doubt that Thorin would allow him to die.
But, as Bilbo prepared for his untimely demise, he found himself sagging with open-mouthed shock – and no small amount of relief – as Thorin grudgingly lowered his rifle to the ground.
- O -
Above the raider's camp stood an enormous glass and metal awning and to Bilbo's dismay, quickly found out that the structure had more uses than a simple shelter.
Bound to one of the tall pillars, he could only look on in sympathy at the red-faced Company and where they had been hung, ankles tied, upside-down.
Unusually silent since their capture, it came as absolutely no surprise that it was Dwalin who spoke first.
"Well, this is just grand."
Bilbo ignored him in favour of watching a male raider and where he sat, meticulously sharpening a set of already vicious looking knives and eyeing the Company with something akin to hunger.
Of course Bilbo had heard the stories, even encountered a few raiders in his life, but he had never been captured by one. Looking at this raider now, he came to the stomach-churning realisation that perhaps the cannibalistic tales where true.
Fighting a wave of nausea he looked away, but the sight of a large cooking pot slowly roasting over an open fire wasn't any better.
Further across the camp, the heavily muscled, mohawked female who'd first grabbed Bilbo was playing some type of card game with two other male raiders. At their sudden and violent shouts, he guessed that they'd lost against her.
Bilbo swallowed thickly, now that the game had ended, it seemed that they were turning their attention onto other matters, Company-like matters.
The female raider was laughing as she approached the Company, prodding Bombur sharply with the baseball bat she held. "We'll feast tonight. Grab the fat-one." She sneered and the two males she'd played cards with came forth.
Thorin and the other's snarled wordless protests, twisting and wrestling within their bonds.
As they simply wriggled, swinging back and forth, Bilbo knew it was hopeless. They would not get free. Not to mention that with all the blood rushing to their thick heads, it was unlikely any of them would be able to think of a clever escape plan – ah...
"Ah-hem." Bilbo cleared his throat, but he was either ignored or not heard over the Company's big mouths – now outright shouting threats as Bombur's rope was cut; the large man falling unceremoniously to the ground.
"Excuse me!" He near shouted, as the two male raiders began to drag Bombur away. "I don't think you'll want to be doing that – if you know what's good for your health." He added, somewhat desperately, noticing that he now had the mohawked female's attention.
"And why's that?" She sneered – apparently her favourite expression.
"Er...b-because he's...ah...irradiated. Yes! Completely irradiated. And I, er, can't imagine that eating someone who's irradiated would be an entirely wise idea." He finished weakly, and rather lamely.
Quick as you like she held up one fist, and the two raiders dragging Bombur immediately stopped.
"Irradiated?"
Was that a flash of concern on her face? Bilbo certainly hoped so. "Yes! Yes. Horribly irradiated. Fatally so." He said quickly, nearly tripping over his words as he thought on his feet.
The two raiders holding Bombur dropped him as if he were a poisonous snake and backed away.
"I-in fact they all are." He shuddered for effect. "It's a terrible business. I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't."
Blessedly, the Company did not protest his words and he only spared them a moments glance before realising he was being watched by the female...leader?
"Irradiated you say?" She turned towards him completely now, crossing one arm beneath the other and stroking her lips, looking at him consideringly. "So if we cannot eat them, what do you propose we do with them? Let them all go?"
Bilbo fought to keep his face even. "Well..."
Her eyes narrowed suddenly and dropped her arms, fists clenching. "You think me dumb, little-one?"
"What? No-"
"I know exactly what you are up to." She turned to the other raiders. "This ferret is taking us for fools! Kur! Terrill! Get your good-for-nothing arses back here and grab this hunk of meat!" Then she kicked Bombur hard in the side before turning back to Bilbo, a cruel smile on her face. "We will cook him and eat him, and if you don't keep your mouth shut, we will feed him to you too."
Bilbo felt sick and could only look on helplessly as Bombur was dragged away once again.
"Sick! You're all sick!" Someone yelled.
"I hope you burn in hell!" Growled another.
"You-you-you trolls!" And that had to be from sweet little Ori.
"I'll spit on your grave-" Definitely Dwalin, who was interrupted by Thorin.
"Don't you touch him, you-!"
But Thorin never got to finish, the sound of a shotgun being fired drowning out his words and echoing around the raider's encampment.
The mohawked female dropped to the ground – dead. Her chest a bloody mess of flesh and metal fragments.
No one had time to react before another shot rang out, and the raider closest to their dead leader fell equally as fast.
The last three raiders stood shocked for several moments before they reached for the closest weapon; Bombur quickly dropped and forgotten were he lay.
However, while the raiders had been frozen in their shock, the unseen shooter had had time to reload and two more quickly met the same fate, the third dead almost as fast from a single neat shot to the head.
Bilbo stared wide-eyed at the carnage, not even able to muster any form of panic before a well recognised figure walked smoothly into the raiders camp.
With a long grey beard and head of hair to match, the man stood tall; his handgun gripped firmly in one gnarled hand, while his shotgun smoked softly in the other.
"Gandalf." Bilbo sighed in relief.
"My dear boy, it seems I came in just the nick of time."
- O -
After being untied, Bilbo went to help Gandalf cut down the rest of the Company – not an easy task seeing as they were all in a rather foul mood and being dropped on their heads made them even more so. Bilbo did, however, take great pleasure in cutting Dwalin loose and watching the man curse and struggle in his remaining bonds upon the floor.
Thorin seemed particularly pissy as he rounded on Gandalf, the last, and recently absent, member of their Company. "And where did you go to, may I ask?"
Gandalf merely looked on him with something like amusement. "To look ahead."
Thorin raised an eyebrow. "And what bought you back?"
"Looking behind." Now their was definite amusement on his withered face. "Nasty business, still you're all in one piece."
Thorin's look darkened. "No thanks to Bilbo."
"Oi!" And Bilbo didn't bother to hide the fact he had been eavesdropping, instead stomping angrily over to the duo.
"Come now, Thorin," Gandalf said in a calming, yet reprimanding sort of tone. "at least he tried to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that."
Bilbo only barely managed to refrain from glaring at their leader, instead folding his arms across his chest until Thorin gave a nod of acknowledgement – barely there, but still a nod nonetheless.
"Right then," Gandalf said." now that that's settled, shall we see what these unfortunate raiders left behind?"
Bilbo grinned. Looting without a single bin in sight? Now that was a happy day indeed.
And the missile launcher?
He was calling dibs on that.
To be continued...
