Trolls they were indeed, and after them came elves, and at last Bilbo laid his eyes upon the Last Homely House. And then there were mountains - mountains! - and goblins deep within the mountains, and riddles in the dark. Bilbo found a sword, and a ring, and somewhere along the way he became less of a scared little hobbit and more of a burglar. And even if he was still mostly a scared little hobbit, he was now a scared little hobbit with true friends who could fight with steel better than he could ever hope to learn. And the more he learned about his dwarvish companions, the more he came to appreciate their strangeness instead of comparing it unfavourably with the comfortable, fat hobbits he'd known all his life.
Still, though, there were two that he still could not understand. Thorin, of course, in his kingly solitude, with his sombre face and the seriousness he wore wrapped around him like a cloak. And Fili, the king's nephew, who smiled sometimes but never seemed to laugh, and who kept to himself without any of the menace that Thorin seemed so happy to employ. Sometimes - when he had time to think, which was not very often any more - Bilbo remembered the first time he had truly encountered adventure, and how he had talked to Fili between the orcs and the trolls. He wondered again about what they had been searching for, the two of them, when they looked in the face of every dead orc. But Fili didn't seem to want company, and so Bilbo never asked him, and it wasn't until one night when they had fled far across the wildlands and found themselves in the house of a great bear-man named Beorn that Bilbo took his next step towards finding the truth.
Beorn's house was remarkably comfortable, given that it was owned by someone who was a giant bear at least part of the time. The number of bees that seemed to inhabit it was somewhat disconcerting, it was true, but Bilbo had always loved honey, as all hobbits do (in truth, there are few foodstuffs that all hobbits do not love), and he was quite happy to stay within the warm, lamplit circle and put up with a few bees for the sake of safety. Besides, Thorin was still exhausted and hurt, even if most of his injuries had been miraculously healed. So Bilbo settled in for the evening, and hoped there would be a few evenings more of honey and cream and quiet, beyond the reach of the creatures that had pursued them down from the mountains.
Quiet, however, was not to be found for long. Bilbo was woken from a half doze in his chair by a growled word from Thorin, and he opened his eyes to see Fili standing with his shoulders thrown back and his chin raised in defiance. Bilbo sat up in surprise. He had not seen the young dwarf defy his uncle - well, ever.
"We must rest," Thorin said. There was a murmur of assent from Balin, off to one side, but Fili did not look convinced.
"You must rest," he said. "I understand that. But I don't understand why I cannot take a small party and raid them. How often will we get this chance, uncle? A secure base in the wildlands? How many orcs could we kill?"
"And how long before the orcs killed you?" Thorin said. "This is not the Blue Mountains, Fili. There are wilder things in these lands than you have ever known."
"But-" Fili started, but something in Thorin's face made him stop.
"There is no discussion to be had," he said. "We will rest, and when we are rested, we will continue. Now get some sleep."
Fili's shoulders slumped, and Bilbo was reminded of that night in the forest, before they saw the trolls. Fili slipped out of the circle of light thrown by the fire and found himself a shadowy corner, and Bilbo turned his eyes away - it seemed wrong, somehow, to watch him when it was so clear he wanted to be alone. Instead, he slipped from the armchair to sit beside Bofur.
"What was that all about?" he asked.
Bofur glanced at him. "He's not a fan of orcs, our Fili," he said.
Bilbo frowned. None of them were fans of orcs, least of all Bilbo himself, but he had little desire to ride out of the safety of Beorn's house to find them and kill them. What was the reasoning behind it? He'd learned long since to accept some of the strangenesses of dwarves, but nonetheless, this particular strangeness troubled him.
The trouble was not enough to keep him from sleep, however - a relatively comfortable bed in a warm room, a stomach full of good food, these were things that Bilbo had last had in Rivendell, which felt like months ago now. He was determined to take full advantage, and he did so, right up until the soft scrape of metal against wood awoke him.
Bilbo lay still for a minute or two, listening to the quiet sounds and assuming they were just one of the dwarves attending to a call of nature. But it soon became clear that there was far too much metal involved for that. That was definitely a steel-shod boot being laced, and that, that was a sword being sheathed. Cautiously, Bilbo opened one eye. The room was dim, the fire long since out, but the sky outside beginning to lighten. Fili stood in his shadowy corner, which Bilbo now noted was next to the door. He was clad to travel. Clad for battle.
Bilbo quickly shut his eye again, trying to make sure he wasn't breathing overly fast. Whatever was going on, it was clear that Fili did not want anyone to know about it. But when he heard the sound of the door being eased back, Bilbo opened both eyes, wide. Near dawn it may have been, but it was still night, and there were orcs out there, and worse.
Orcs, yes. And of course, Bilbo realised, that was exactly what Fili wanted.
Bilbo Baggins was still (mostly) a scared little hobbit. But he was a scared little hobbit who had grown to accept the strangeness of dwarves. More than that, he had grown to care for his companions - even those who sat silent and apart, those who sometimes smiled but never laughed. And so when he saw Fili slip through the door, he didn't give it a moment's thought before putting on the ring he had found under the mountain, grabbing his little sword from beside his bed, and slipping out after him.
By the time dawn broke, Bilbo was beginning to regret his decision. Fili apparently wanted to put as much distance between himself and Beorn's house as he could before the others awoke. Even on foot, his stride was long enough that Bilbo had to jog to keep up, all the while trying to make sure to stay far enough away that Fili wouldn't be alerted to his presence by his harsh breathing or occasional muttered curses. There was no respite until two hours after sunrise, at which point Fili sat down to eat his breakfast and Bilbo realised that he had brought no provisions with him and, in any case, had no way of eating without Fili discovering he was there. He watched as Fili shoved a whole honeycake in his mouth, his own mouth filling with saliva. It was then that he began to realise that he really should have planned this whole outing better. Though how he could have done so without losing track of Fili all together was anyone's guess. He just hoped Fili decided to turn back before Bilbo starved to death.
Fili didn't linger over breakfast, much to Bilbo's relief, and very soon they were walking again - or Fili was walking and Bilbo was jogging. Fili kept casting glances at the sun, and as it began to reach its height, he started to look worried. At one point, Bilbo heard him mutter where are you? under his breath, and he hoped against hope that Fili would fail to find any orcs and would be forced to turn back to Beorn's so as not to be caught in the open when night fell. He hoped, at least, that Fili would choose not to stay out over night. He had always seemed like a reasonably sensible dwarf.
Of course, reasonably sensible generally did not include going out to look for orcs by oneself in the wildlands. Perhaps Bilbo was not a particularly good judge of dwarven character, after all. At any rate, his hopes were in vain: less than an hour after midday, Fili stilled suddenly and turned towards a little hollow that Bilbo had not noticed before. Bilbo paused too, and now that he was still, he could smell what it was that had stopped Fili in his tracks.
Rotting flesh.
Fili crept to the edge of the hollow, and Bilbo was surprised once again by how quietly dwarves could move when they'd a mind. Then he drew his sword, and Bilbo knew that he'd found what he was looking for.
It was grisly work. Bilbo had not witnessed the last time this had happened, and indeed, he had had no wish to. But now he found himself drawn by horrified fascination, watching as Fili methodically worked his way through the sleeping band of orcs, dropping beside each, slitting their throats before they could make a sound. By the time his work was done, the blade of his sword was black with orc-blood, and Bilbo was sick with the sight and the smell. He turned away, covering his mouth with his hand, only to see a long-armed shadow detach itself from the green dimness under the trees and glide towards the hollow. Bilbo turned, sure that Fili would see it too, but he was engaged in his strange work of lifting each orc's head and staring into their face, and Bilbo, feet rooted to the floor, realised that there was only one thing that could be done.
"Hey!" he called, and Fili's head snapped up. He looked straight through Bilbo, but spotted the lone orc seconds later and swung into a battle stance, his sword raised. The orc roared and charged, and Bilbo fell back a step in horror, although the creature was nowhere near him. He had seen goblins, of course, many of them, but never an orc up close, not a living one, any way. The creature seemed to be pure rage, its too-long arms reaching for Fili like it would engulf him entirely.
Fili swung, drops of orc-blood flying from his sword, and the orc snarled and leaped sideways, out of the path of the blade, its arm coming round in a great arc that looked like it might take Fili's head off if it connected. Bilbo felt his hands go to his mouth in horror, but Fili ducked and darted forward simultaneously, swinging his sword for the creature's knees. This time, the blow connected, although not as deeply as Fili must have intended, for the creature danced back, surprisingly fast on its feet for something so long-limbed and heavy. The tip of the sword sliced across the orc's knees, and it lifted its head and roared in rage.
Somewhere far away, Bilbo thought he heard an answering roar, and the sweat that was trickling down his spine turned cold.
Fili seemed to hear nothing, though, or perhaps he was too busy concentrating on staying out of reach of the orc. The creature had drawn a wicked-looking blade, now, and sliced it through the air where Fili's face had been a moment before, forcing him back and back across the bodies of the orcs he'd just killed. For a moment, it seemed like Fili might take the upper hand, a particularly agile dodge and weave bringing him within slashing distance of the orc and resulting in an ugly, oozing black gash across its stomach. But even as Fili raised his sword for the final blow, his foot slipped on the blood-slicked chest of one of the dead orcs, and he went down on one knee. He was quick to try and rise, but the orc was quicker, kicking him under the chin hard enough to snap his head back. Fili went sprawling, his sword slipping from his hand, and Bilbo, watching with his hands clamped to his mouth, understood then that Fili was going to lose this fight. He would lose, and Bilbo, who had slipped out of the door of Beorn's house because he cared about dwarves, even dwarves who sometimes smiled but never laughed, would have stood by and watched it happen.
Some adventurer you turned out to be, Mr. Baggins.
Before the words had even finished resounding in his head, Bilbo found himself, sword in hand, dashing across the orcish carnage towards the fallen dwarf. Fili was desperately scrabbling after his sword, trying to pull its twin from the sheath on his back, but the orc had already raised its great curved blade, and Bilbo had no time for consideration, no time for anything but to bring his little sword down across the backs of the creature's knees. The orc stumbled and bellowed, shocked, casting about for its assailant. Too late, it realised that the far greater threat was still lying prone before it. Fili took advantage of the moment's respite to take hold of his sword once more and strike, thrusting upwards into the orc's belly, black blood pouring down over his hand and arm.
The orc stood a moment, blinking down at the sword protruding from its body. Then, with a last, blood-chilling cry, it toppled to the ground. Bilbo found himself gaping at the curved knife, which somewhere along the way had flown from the dying orc's fingers and embedded itself, quivering, in the ground inches from Bilbo's foot. Getting involved in fights was definitely something he was going to try and avoid in the future.
The woods were suddenly remarkably quiet, now that there were no sounds of orc and dwarf and clashing steel. Bilbo looked over at Fili to see he was on his feet, sword still in hand, frowning thoughtfully at the place where Bilbo had been standing watching the fight. Bilbo swallowed, remembering how he had alerted Fili to the orc's presence. Had Fili recognised his voice? Perhaps the best thing to do would be to take the ring off now and tell the young dwarf in no uncertain terms that he should be go back to Beorn's house and heed his uncle's commands next time, since it was clear that gallivanting around the countryside after orcs was only going to get him into trouble.
Unfortunately, Bilbo suspected that that would not actually help matters.
Fili moved quietly over to the edge of the hollow, standing on the very spot where Bilbo had stood, frozen with fear, and turning slowly, peering into the dimness beneath the trees.
"Is somebody here?" he asked, and Bilbo held his breath.
After a moment of utter stillness - for it seemed even the birds had fled the forest with the coming of the orcs - Fili frowned and muttered something to himself in the gruff dwarvish language that Bilbo was not permitted to learn. He turned back to the slain orcs and bent to lift the head of the one closest to him, peering into its face, and Bilbo wondered again just what it was he was looking for.
He didn't spend much time wondering, though, for a moment later, the far-off cry that Bilbo had heard came again, closer now, and this time Fili could not fail but hear it. He froze, one hand still curled in the clothing of the orc he had been inspecting, the other tightening on his sword hilt. The sun was barely past its zenith, but Bilbo knew with a sudden, frightening certainty that they would not make it back to Beorn's comfortable hearth tonight.
And then Fili started to run.
If keeping up with a striding dwarf had been difficult, keeping up with a sprinting one was ten times worse. Bilbo was saved only by his light-footedness, his ability to race over uneven ground where Fili had to take more care. Even so, they had been running less than a quarter hour when Bilbo knew it was hopeless. If he didn't do something soon, he would lose Fili; and if he lost him, he would be alone in the wildlands with little idea of which way they had come and with a pack of orcs on his trail. The ring might hide him from their eyes, but it could not hide him from their noses. And so, after one last burst of speed that put him almost on Fili's heels, he slipped off the ring and gasped out:
"Master Fili, if you please."
Fili half stumbled, righted himself against a tree trunk, and looked back. His eyes grew round in his face as he beheld Bilbo.
"Mr. Baggins," he said. "What in the seven kingdoms are you doing here?"
Bilbo shook his head. "I followed you," he wheezed. "There's no time to explain. I can't keep up, I'm sorry."
Fili's eyes went to the trees behind Bilbo, innocent-looking now, but no doubt soon to be witness to the trampling march of orcs. "Can you not run?" he asked, an edge of urgency in his voice.
"Not fast enough," Bilbo said, and Fili nodded.
"Then you must ride," he said, and held out his arms, crouching a little. "Come, master hobbit," he said. "You will have a royal steed today."
Bilbo glanced around, but there was nothing for it; and if he knew the fortitude of dwarves (and he had had more than enough opportunity to observe it in the past few weeks), Fili would run faster with Bilbo on his back than Bilbo would unencumbered. So he clambered on, and Fili stood, taking a brief moment to ensure Bilbo was firmly attached, and then began to run again.
Bilbo wasn't entirely sure that being carried by a running dwarf was any less of a trial than chasing after one. The ride was exceedingly bumpy, Fili's feet pounding where a hobbit's would dance, pounding hard enough that Bilbo can feel it in every bone in his body. The two sword hilts that protruded from Fili's shoulders took it in turns to slap Bilbo in the face, one of them smearing orc-blood on his cheek each time. Fili's hair flew back, tangling in Bilbo's mouth, wrapping itself around his neck, threatening to choke him. He wondered if that was exactly why dwarves were so determined to keep their hair long - to use as a weapon when all else had failed. And somewhere behind them, somewhere that seemed a little closer every time he heard their crowing cries, the orcs kept up the chase.
The ground flew by beneath the dwarf's feet, almost dizzying Bilbo if he looked at it for too long. The wind whipping past his ears was chill even in the early afternoon sunlight, and after a while Bilbo's fingers began to grow numb with clutching at the stiff leather of Fili's clothing. He glanced behind him only once, seeing nothing but trees and grass, but a hooting call came as if they had seen him looking, and he turned sharply back, burying his face in Fili's back.
And then they entered a dense stand of trees and the pounding feet stopped abruptly, Fili almost overbalancing as the pair found themselves confronted by a solid grey wall, a rocky cliff rising before them, not high enough that they could have seen it above the tall pines that grew in front, but enough that there was little hope that they could scale it.
They were trapped.
Fili sucked in a breath, and Bilbo tapped on his shoulder.
"How far does it extend?" he asked, as if he expected the young dwarf to know everything about the wildlands.
"Only one way to find out," said Fili, and started jogging eastwards - at least, Bilbo thought it was east, although the sun was barely visible through the thick pine branches, and he had long since lost his sense of which direction he was pointing in. The cliff continued, grim and grey, glowering down at them as if it was displeased with their intrusion. Behind them - but not far behind, certainly not far enough - the orcs howled.
And then, there was a cave.
"In here," Fili hissed, and grabbed Bilbo by the wrist, dragging him down the slight incline into the gloomy interior of the cave. Bilbo supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Dwarves seemed to have an affinity for being underground, after all. On the other hand, they were certainly not the only creatures that felt that way.
"Won't it be easier for them to find us in here?" Bilbo asked. "In the dark, I mean."
"Maybe, but sometimes-" Fili was feeling along the walls until he paused, giving a quiet cry of triumph. "No orc could pass through here," he said, pointing to a narrow crack that Bilbo personally thought might be rather too slim for a sturdy dwarf to pass through, either. Fili surprised him, though, slipping out of his scabbards and some of his outer clothes and squeezing through, tearing part of his tunic as he passed and swearing quietly. Bilbo followed after him, and they found that the narrow entrance widened a little, allowing Fili to walk forwards instead of sideways like a crab. The tunnel wound its way into the cliff, and they followed it, hoping, Fili said, to find an exit somewhere where the orcs would not find them.
After some minutes and several twists and turns, however, it became clear there would be no exit.
"Well," Bilbo said, examining the walls and ceiling of the smallish cavern they found themselves in by the light of a stub of candle Fili had produced from his pack, "at least it's dry."
"Dry, yes," Fili said. "But the orcs will smell us in here. They'll block up the entrance, and dry will not help us then." He knelt on the floor of the cave, scraping up a handful of the damp dust that covered it and smearing it on his face. "We should try and cover our smell," he explained. "You too, master hobbit."
Bilbo frowned at him. It was not that he had any great objection to covering his skin in dirt, although the prospect of when he might next see a hot bath was a rather dispiriting one. But an idea was forming in his mind, one that a few weeks ago he might have dismissed as far too dangerous for a simple hobbit from the Shire, but that now, trapped in a cave with a dwarf and soon to be besieged by orcs, seemed as simple as a country stroll by comparison.
"I could lay a false trail," he said. "Give me something of yours, that smells like you."
Fili frowned at him. "Don't be absurd," he said. "The orcs will be here soon. If they see you-"
"They won't," Bilbo said. "I'm - I'm actually rather good at this burglar thing."
Fili did not look convinced. "I'm sorry, Mr. Baggins," he said. "I cannot let you take such a great risk. It is my fault we're here, after all."
"No, look," said Bilbo, and then he put on the ring.
Fili's head jerked, eyes going round. He looked from side to side, as though he thought Bilbo had just stepped into the shadows, and then scrambled to his feet, hand going to the knife he carried at his side. "Mr. Baggins?" he said. "Where did you go?"
"I didn't go anywhere." Bilbo slipped the ring off, and found himself rather enjoying Fili's look of astonishment. "I've been here all the time."
Fili's mouth opened and closed silently. "You are- You are a wizard?" he said, sounding very uncertain.
Bilbo couldn't help but laugh. A wizard, of all things, Bilbo Baggins from the Shire! "No, but I do have a magic ring," he said. "And I can lay a trail with no risk at all, if you'll just give me something quick."
Fili blinked, but Bilbo had rather emphasised the word quick, and it seemed to bring the dwarf back to the urgency of the situation. Visibly swallowing his questions, he tore off the part of his tunic that was hanging loose after his scrape through the cave entrance. It was stained with orc blood, but some of it was also a dark, rusty red in the candlelight.
"You're hurt," Bilbo said.
"A scratch, no more," Fili replied. "Be quick!"
Bilbo nodded and slipped on the ring, padding out through the cave as fast as he dared. Once he reached the outside world, he made sure to sweep the pine needles and dust across the faint prints of iron-shod feet leading into the cave, and then kicked up the thick carpet of needles as much as he could, leading away from the cave and back into the trees. He made sure to trail the bloody cloth along on the ground, as well. There was certainly no harm in the belt and braces approach, after all.
Perhaps half a mile distant from the cave mouth, Bilbo found a narrow river and splashed into it, wading downstream for several hundred yards before pausing, letting the bloody cloth flow away in the rush of water. He reached for a handful of loam on the bank, meaning to disguise his scent before creeping back to the cave, but a glance back up the river had his hand freezing in midair.
The orcs were standing on the bank some way upstream, staring right at him.
Frantically, Bilbo clasped his hands, checking he was still wearing the ring. The metal was warm against his fingers, and he closed his eyes and hoped with all his might that the magic had not worn off.
When he opened his eyes, the orcs were still there, but they were no longer looking at Bilbo. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief, which quickly turned into a soundless moan of terror as the first orc stepped into the stream and started in his direction.
"'They're down here somewhere," called the leading orc, a great brute with a scar crossing one eye. "I can smell 'em."
Me, Bilbo realised. He can smell me. And here he was, standing submerged to his waist, just watching them coming.
Panic wormed its way into Bilbo's heart, but it was only a moment before he realised what he had to do. He sank silently into the water, leaving only his nostrils protruding, and then submerging them, too, as the orcs came close enough to touch. He blinked, watching the blurry shapes move above him and praying that they would not walk into him, would somehow manage to miss him despite the narrowness of the watercourse. A glance to his left, and he saw monstrous pale legs pass no more than an inch from his shoulder, clawed hands trailing in the water that made him duck his head out of the way. His lungs burned with holding his breath, but he dared not even let a few bubbles rise to the surface. Who knew how observant these dreadful creatures were?
And then, by some miracle, they were gone.
Bilbo didn't know if they were gone completely, but there were no more shapes that he could see, and in truth he had no choice in the matter any more. He simply had to breathe. He broke the surface as quietly as he could, for all that he longed to burst up into the world and gasp delicious air into his lungs, and he was fully prepared to take a quiet breath and submerge himself again, if need be. But when his eyes came above the surface, he saw that there were no orcs upriver, nor downriver either, at least not in sight. Bilbo let himself stand, taking a deep breath that was rather noisier than he'd planned. Still, it seemed he had escaped.
For now, at least.
Sopping wet and caked in mud and pine needles, Bilbo found the trip back to the cave a great deal longer than the trip away had been. The area was crawling with orcs, at least ten of them, all shouting to each other, trying to find where the trail had come out of the river. More than once, Bilbo had to flatten himself against a trunk and hold his breath, thinking piney thoughts of resin and dark, snowy winters in the hope that it might make him smell more like a tree. More than once, he thought about leaving Fili and going for help, only to remind himself that he didn't know where he was, and that Fili could well be an orc's dinner long before he could ever find his way back.
Finally, though, he made it to the cave, only to find two or three orcs seated in the outer part, arguing over some weapon they had stolen from the last unfortunate traveller to cross their paths. One was sitting right in front of the crack, and Bilbo held his breath and took tiny, silent steps, sidling along the wall in an attempt to stop his wet trousers brushing the scarred, bare skin of the orc's arm.
And then, finally, he was through, slipping along the narrow tunnel with its twists and turns until the sound of the orcs arguing had dwindled to nothing. As the tunnel widened out, he found himself leaning forward, hands on his knees, and gulping deep breaths as though trying to make up for all the ones he had missed since he saw the orcs on the riverbank.
Fili came to his feet at the sound, swords drawn before Bilbo had even seen him reach for them. He scanned the cave with a frown.
"Mr. Baggins?" he said. "Is that you?"
Recovering himself a little, Bilbo slipped the ring from his finger. Fili's shoulders slumped a little in relief.
"You were gone so long," he said. "I was afraid they had caught you."
"Not for want of trying, I can tell you that much," Bilbo said, sinking to the floor. "I'm afraid they've set up camp in the cave, though they don't know we're here."
Fili sheathed his swords and nodded, thinking for a while. "Well," he said, "I suppose we should make ourselves as comfortable as we can, if we're to be here overnight."
Overnight. The thought sent a shiver down Bilbo's spine. Overnight in the wildlands with orcs between them and the outside world, and nothing but Fili's (admittedly impressive) collection of weapons and Bilbo's little sword to defend themselves with. He rather wished he had simply let the young dwarf walk out of the door this morning, although when he recalled that that would have meant certain death for Fili he repented of the thought.
"The candle's burning out," Fili said, settling himself on the floor. "I'm afraid we're in for a dark time of it."
Bilbo drew his sword, letting the blue glow light the little cavern. "Never mind the candle," he said. "Do you have any food?"
"What I don't understand is," said Bilbo, staring up at the ceiling and feeling his stomach growl - for although Fili had indeed brought quite a lot of food, it takes a great deal to satiate a hobbit who hasn't eaten all day - "why you felt the need to go out looking for orcs in the first place. It seems to me we have orcs enough and to spare following us around without trying to find more. Not to mention how upset your uncle will be when we get back."
Fili, seated with his back to the cave wall a short distance away, sighed and laced his hands behind his head. "It is my duty," he said. "Something I think my uncle sometimes forgets."
Bilbo frowned, remembering his conversation with Bofur, weeks ago on the other side of the mountains. "It was Thorin who made you swear, though, wasn't it?" he said.
"There was no need to make me swear," was Fili's quiet reply.
"But why does he hate orcs so much?" Bilbo insisted. Fili shifted a little.
"They are orcs," he said. "Is that not enough?"
"Well," Bilbo said, "I suppose - well, no, not really." Certainly it was no surprise that Thorin might hate orcs - Bilbo wasn't too fond of them himself, after all - but hating orcs was one thing, deliberately seeking them out to slaughter them in their beds was another.
Fili was quiet for a moment. Then he looked at Bilbo and away, as if he couldn't quite decide whether to tell him something. "Orcs have killed all the sons of my forefathers for generations now," he said. "They have sworn a blood oath to wipe us from the earth. And we, in turn, have sworn to do the same for them."
Well. That, at least, was a reason. All the sons of my forefathers. Bilbo knew that some of the other dwarves in the company were related to Thorin and Fili, but rather distantly, he thought. And he had heard nothing of sons or fathers or other uncles, only Fili's denial that he had any brothers.
"It seems like they have an easier task than you," he said, although he tried to sound sympathetic.
"That is certainly true," Fili said. "There is only my uncle, now."
"And you," Bilbo pointed out.
Fili looked down at his hands and smiled a strange smile in the dim blue light. "Yes," he said. "And me."
Bilbo lay back, resting his head on his hand and watching the shadows in the corners of the cave. "He'll be worried about you," he said, although to be honest it was hard to imagine Thorin worried. Furious, yes. Worried, no. Nonetheless, Fili was his closest kin, and surely even Thorin must have a heart somewhere under all those furs. "He'll think you're dead."
"I hope he turns out to be wrong," Fili said.
It was turning out, Bilbo thought, to be a rather melancholy conversation. But then, it seemed that Fili was a rather melancholy dwarf. Another thought occurred to him, and he decided that now was the time to ask it, since they certainly weren't going anywhere any time soon.
"What are you looking for?" he asked. "When you look at the orcs' faces, I mean."
Fili didn't answer, and Bilbo thought that perhaps he should have restrained his curiosity. What business was it of his, after all, the peculiarities of dwarves?
But then Fili sighed and spoke, almost too quietly for Bilbo's sharp ears to catch.
"A murderer," he said.
It was impossible to tell the passage of time in the cave. The only way was for Bilbo to slip on the ring every now and then and creep down the narrow passageway, peer through the crack in the wall to see if daylight was yet filtering in through the cave entrance. Every time, he hoped that the orcs would be gone, but there were always two or three of them there, quarrelling in that guttural language that sent Bilbo's teeth on edge. Finally, day dawned somewhere outside their rocky prison, and the orcs fell asleep.
Bilbo crept back to Fili. "They haven't left," he said. "But they are sleeping."
Fili nodded. "How many?"
"Four or five," Bilbo said. "I suppose we could wait another night, see if they go."
"No," Fili shook his head. "We have no more food, and we'll be no good if we're too hungry to make our way back to Beorn's. We may have to run."
Bilbo swallowed, trying to ignore the gurgling of his stomach. Running had seemed unappealing enough yesterday, when he had had a good night's sleep and a hearty meal the day before. Now it seemed almost impossible, and in another day, who could say? Fili was right. They had to get out.
"Put on your ring," said Fili, taking off his boots. "Go and see if there are any guards on watch."
Bilbo nodded and slipped the ring on his finger. He was stepping into the tunnel when Fili called quietly to him.
"Yes?" he replied.
"If there are guards, will you be able to get rid of them?" Fili asked.
Bilbo looked down at his sword, still glowing in his hand, and then up at Fili's serious face. The last child of his forefathers.
"Yes," he said. "I think I will."
Bilbo was feeling quite a lot less brave by the time he had picked his way past the sleeping orcs to the cave entrance. There weren't too many of them, true, but Bilbo had spent the greater part of his time since he left the Shire trying very hard to avoid being this close to orcs. Lately, he seemed to be failing all too often.
He covered his mouth and nose with his hand against the stench of rotting meat and tried not to look at the remains of the orcs' dinner, still hanging forlornly from a spit. It was too small to have once been anything other than a rabbit, he decided, ignoring the small voice in his mind that informed him that large things could be made smaller quite easily with the application of sharp knives.
He reached the entrance without incident, and stepped out, glancing from side to side to see if any guards were present. He could see none, though, and he paused for a moment, letting the sun fall on his face and breathing the clean, sweet air of the forest. It seemed an age since he had stood in the open air, although it had only been the afternoon before. Then he turned back to the entrance and took off the ring, waving to the crack from where Fili was watching him.
The dwarf emerged with care, almost dropping his boots as he tried to pull them through the gap side by side rather than one at a time. The horrified expression on his blackened face would have been comical, if the potential consequences had not been so severe. As it was, Bilbo found himself making an involuntary catching motion as Fili grabbed for the slippery leather, getting a firm hold just before the boots hit the ground. Bilbo closed his eyes and tried to push down the sick feeling in his stomach. He had spent all too much time with his heart in his mouth lately.
Fili trod carefully around the sleeping orcs, knife in one hand, boots in the other. He crouched by the first orc he passed and drew the knife sharply across its throat. Bilbo groaned silently. Save us all from the stubbornness of dwarves! Of course a child of Durin could not be expected to forget his blood oath, even if it meant saving his life and the life of any innocent hobbits he happened to have dragged into his madness.
Go, Bilbo mouthed at Fili. Let's just go. But Fili was intent on his task, slitting the throat of the second orc as quickly and quietly as the first. Bilbo flapped a hand to attract his attention, and Fili looked up, frowning.
They will follow us, he mouthed, the words exaggerated enough that Bilbo could read them. Ah, well. That was a good point, actually.
Fili made short work of the third orc, and Bilbo, trying hard to stop himself bouncing on his feet in impatience, began to think that perhaps they might get out of here alive after all. He kept on feeling that way right up until one of the last two orcs grunted and rolled over, flinging an arm across Fili's bare foot. Fili froze, eyes wide, and tried, ever so slowly, to pull himself free. But the motion must have disturbed the orc, and he started groping, grabbing hold of Fili's foot and sitting up to see what he held.
The bellow of bloodlust was mixed with the sound of Fili's boots clattering to the floor and his swords sliding from their sheaths. All in all, it was enough to wake the dead, and certainly enough to wake the other orc, who leapt to his feet when he saw a heavily armed dwarf just a few feet away. Fili was already engaged in close battle with the first orc, and Bilbo could see nothing for it but to get involved himself, even though he had decided only yesterday that fighting was really not something he wished to spend more time doing.
"Yeeargh!" he cried, and threw himself into the fray, slashing at the second orc's legs. He caught the creature unawares, but Bilbo was no fighter, and it was only moments before the orc picked him up with a snarl and flung him against the wall, as one might a particularly annoying insect. Hobbits have thick enough heads, to be sure, but nonetheless Bilbo found himself in a dazed heap at the bottom of the wall, and before he could quite gather his wits, there was a guttural cry from his left, and a third orc came barrelling into Bilbo, rolling them over and over across the rocky floor.
Bilbo struggled violently, cursing himself for having somehow missed this one. He had somehow got his sword trapped beneath himself, and the third orc was on top of him, pummelling him in the face and giving him no chance to retrieve it. He raised his arms to protect himself, and tried to use his weight to roll them back over, although there was little hope that something the size of a hobbit could roll something the size of an orc.
To his surprise, the orc lost its balance, and he rolled until he was on top of it, his hand groping for his sword as he tried to fend off the creature's blows. Somewhere along the way, he became aware that something rather strange was going on. Every orc he had seen so far - and he had seen far more than he had ever wished to - had been bald and pale, with perhaps a few wisps of hair here and there. But this one had dark hair all over its face, its eyes barely visible through the tangle. There was no time to contemplate it, though, for the creature swiped a stinging blow across Bilbo's face, gouging its claws through the skin of his cheek, and Bilbo recoiled, dealing a blow with his sword in return.
The quarters were too close, and the angle too tight - Bilbo succeeded in slicing a deep cut across the creature's outflung arm, but nothing more. The orc shrieked in rage and threw Bilbo off, stumbling to its feet and staggering backwards, one hand clamped over the wound in its arm, blood welling through its fingers. Bilbo jumped up, too, sword at the ready for whatever it would try next.
It was then that Bilbo noticed something strange. Well, two strange things, in fact. The first was that the orc was nowhere near as large as an orc ought to be, barely taller than Bilbo, in fact. The second was that the blood seeping through the creature's fingers was undeniably, indisputably red.
"What-?" Bilbo breathed, but any further thoughts were interrupted by Fili's yell behind him.
"Look out!"
Bilbo turned, and saw that Fili, having apparently dispatched both of the other orcs, was charging towards the creature that had been fighting Bilbo. Both his swords were drawn, and the creature stumbled back, hissing.
"No!" Bilbo cried before he had really had time to consider it, and then, still worse, he found himself jumping in front of the blur of bloody steel than was Fili. It was only the dwarf's excellent reflexes that saved him from being skewered, and as it was, Bilbo found himself with a terrifyingly sharp blade just half an inch from his eye.
"Er," he said.
"Mr. Baggins," Fili said, staring at him from far too close with an expression that suddenly reminded Bilbo rather unpleasantly of his uncle. "What on earth do you think you are doing?"
"It's not an orc," Bilbo blurted out. He could hear the creature breathing heavily behind him, and he suspected that he was in for a sneak attack any minute, but all the same. "I just, um. I wanted you to know that it wasn't an orc. Before you killed it."
Fili straightened up, staring at him and then over his shoulder at the creature. "Orc or not, it's no friend of ours," he said, and shoved Bilbo aside.
There was a growl from behind him, and then the creature launched itself, a ball of tangled hair and scrabbling claws, landing on Fili before he could get his swords up. He stumbled backwards in surprise, landing hard on his back, and then rolled the creature over with ease - it was smaller than Fili, Bilbo saw, skinny and narrow-shouldered - dropping one sword and grabbing the hair over its face to pull its head up.
And then he stopped.
The creature eyed him for a second, dark eyes in a face that looked like it had several centuries worth of grime caked onto it but had none of the deformity of orcish features. Fili stared down at it like he'd turned to stone. The creature took advantage of the situation to bite Fili hard in the forearm and then kick its way out from under him, kneeing him in the stomach and grabbing for the discarded sword.
"Fili!" Bilbo yelled, snatching the sword himself and pulling it out of the creature's reach. "What's the matter with you?"
The creature cocked its head on one side, scowling at Bilbo for a second, then kicked Fili again and suddenly turned, making a bolt for the entrance. Fili made a noise that sounded only half human and launched himself to his feet, flinging himself at the creature in a tackle that brought them both to the ground. The creature, though, had found a knife lying discarded by one of the dead orcs, and wriggled out of Fili's grasp, standing half-crouched with its back to the wall, brandishing the knife at Fili. Fili climbed slowly to his feet, hands raised, palms outwards. He looked dazed and almost lost.
Bilbo could hardly believe his eyes. Here was the dwarf who had just killed five orcs single-handedly, stymied by a shrunken little thing with a blade barely bigger than a pocket knife. "Fili," he said again. "Why don't you fight?"
Fili cast him a despairing glance, and the creature took that as an opportunity to lunge forward. Bilbo cried out a warning, and Fili stumbled back, all his grace having apparently deserted him, and barely dodged out of the path of the blade. The creature slashed once more, and Fili made that strange noise again, then ducked under the creature's knife arm and came up behind it, wrapping a sturdy arm round its throat. For the first time, Bilbo noticed a thick iron collar there, mostly hidden by the creature's knotted hair.
The creature brought its hands up to its throat, kicking and slashing ineffectually with the knife. Fili raised his eyes to heaven and muttered something that sounded a great deal like mother, forgive me. The creature's kicks and punches weakened, and then stilled, its eyes rolling up in its head, and Fili let it go, catching it as it slumped towards the ground and laying it down with an odd sort of gentleness.
Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief. Now, perhaps, they could get on with getting away from this confounded cave before any more orcs appeared. He took the few steps to stand beside Fili, who was crouched over the creature, brushing its hair back from its face with an unsteady hand.
"What is it?" Bilbo asked, looking down at the strange little thing. "It almost seems like a dwarf." Definitely not an orc, at any rate.
Fili looked up at him, and Bilbo saw to his amazement that his eyes were full of tears.
"It is a dwarf," he said, voice hoarse. "It's my brother."
