To the two who followed, thank you kindly for reading. I have decided to post the second and third sections at once. I have no plans to continue further. My apologies for any mistakes. Again, this whole thing came together piecemeal and I did my best to make sure the flow is relatively smooth. If there are any out-of-place details, my apologies again.
The journey back to his building was slow. The street and sidewalks were overflowing with people trying to leave the city. Many carried backpacks or multiple bags while others dragged along suitcases. The going was tedious and tense. At one point, Bilbo and several others had to part two men who launched into a fistfight. One was a father trying to aid his little son and the other cursed him for slowing everyone else down just to help his "stupid bastard." Once separated, a few snarled at the troublemaker for being heartless. The man simply grabbed his backpack and trudged on. Bilbo noticed that many carried nothing save the clothes on their backs.
As he continued, Bilbo noticed something that troubled him greatly. On one side of the street stood several narrow residential buildings. In front of all stood individuals pleading with an older individual. These individuals were shaking their heads or arguing with the other. Bilbo realized these were the folks who were going to stay behind. Despite the threat of imminent death, they would stay and risk their safety. He could not understand why. If Smaug was on his way, their lives would end.
The crowd slowly swelled in size as businesses emptied and patrons mixed in. Some battled the crowd to return to their homes while the rest just went along. Bilbo gingerly made his way towards the sidewalk. He passed the sports pub. The owner, a burly man in plaid and jeans, was taping a sign on his door. It read, "CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE!" The dancers of the club next door were shepherding their customers out the door. The two at the door were clad in nothing but g-strings and mile-high heels, but passerby paid little heed. The pink-haired woman who ran the street's beauty parlor was helping a teen client remove the foil from her hair. Once past her, Bilbo slipped onto the sidewalk. The going was quicker, but still slow. Bilbo carefully slithered his way through the crowd. He ignored the dirty looks and angry curses.
He finally reached his block ninety minutes after he left. By this point, he was tired and anxious. His sweater and slacks clung to him while his feet throbbed. He rubbed his back as he inched his way towards the edge of the crowd. A rude teenager had whacked him in the back with his suitcase and called him names for being so slow. He fell silent when Bilbo gave him his patented death glare. Those behind the teen recoiled at the sight. Bilbo continued on his way with little trouble. He sighed in relief when his tenement building came into view.
His building was a low-slung, three-level structure that hugged the sidewalk. Bilbo had chosen it after his return because it was peaceful. That, and the fact his original home had been auctioned off greedy relations. He lived in a corner cubicle on the bottom level. His neighbors were decent folk who were never given to the gossip and suspicions he had to deal with before he moved. This was one of the few things he was thankful for. As soon as he reached the edge of crowd, he slipped between a group of women and strode to his building.
The panic gripping the rest of the city was slow in appearance here. Many of the residents were glued to their TVs, watching the live coverage of the destruction. Solitary residents were so engrossed in the horror that their ears never heard the continuous warnings to flee. The landlord spent two hours banging on doors, hollering at anyone to flee. When few scrambled out of their residences, the man gave up and returned to his own residence. He emerged a few minutes after, carrying a small knapsack and flashlight. Taking one final look at his building, he shook his head and walked away. He merged into the sea of life just as Bilbo walked up to his front door. Bilbo pulled out his key, unlocked the door, and let himself in. The door swung shut behind him.
Bilbo's flat was a far cry from spacious Bag End. Lack of possessions meant it was sparsely furnished. A pull-out couch, standing lamp, coffee table and TV adorned the living room. An entryway led into the kitchen. Bilbo always made sure his cupboards and fridge were fully stocked. His oven was the only appliance. A rosewood table that belonged to his grandmother and two matching chairs stood in the middle next to the sole window in the entire place. Another entryway opened into a small corridor that led to the bathroom. It was so small that Bilbo still hurt himself moving around within. Along the corridor was a surprisingly spacious closet. This was what Bilbo sought.
Moving into the corridor, he reached out and grasped the closet door's handle. He swung it aside, reached to the ceiling and clicked on the light he installed inside. The light was dim, but enough for him to see. He stood before the closet, casting a critical eye on the contents. Boxes and knickknacks were piled along the top shelf. His clothing hung neatly from their hangers. His shoes, more boxes, and assorted items lay scattered on the floor.
He scanned the top shelf first. He sought his trusted emergency radio. He knew he could get all the information he wanted if he could find it. Failing to spot it on the shelf, he crouched down and scanned the floor. He peeked under a heavy overcoat and chuffed in relief. Peeking out from behind a box of decade-old moonshine was his radio. He reached over and slid it out. The motion knocked something loose. Something fell askew before something else fell to the floor. Bilbo paused immediately. What fell to the floor sounded like a small metal object. There was only one small metal object in the back of his closet.
"So that's where I put it," muttered Bilbo as he reached in and moved several boxes and shoes aside. He created a small clearing and looked within.
It was duller than he last remembered. Then again, he had not paid much attention to its hue when he took it from Gollum. In those days, it was just a shiny bauble that could turn its wearer invisible. A tool he used to free the Company from Thranduil and to speak to the Great Drake in Erebor. He learned on the return trip home it was anything but. Its shiny innocence hid an entrenched malevolence. During one miserable day, Bilbo learned it contained an intelligence that made him bag it and leave. He reached into his closet and picked it up. The Ring warmed quickly upon contact. Bilbo looked at it, studying it. Its sheen was bright. He marveled how something so normal could be so vile. How a ring could be the chosen weapon of the world's most powerful villain. Speaking of Sauron…
Bilbo clutched the Ring and radio tight and stood up. He moved into the kitchen. The inky hue seen through the window heralded evening. Bilbo moved to one corner and flicked on the light. The two fluorescent light flooded the kitchen with luminescence. He lay the Ring and radio on the table. He took a seat and moved the Ring directly across from him. He then moved the radio in front of him. It was a ham-shaped thing with one speaker. He knew it still had batteries, but did not know if they still worked. He flicked the switch on and checked the battery power. It indicated the batteries were still useful. Taking a breath, he began turning the dial. He sought the news stations, trying to remember the stations he usually listened to. He tried the high end of the bandwidth first. He stopped and listened.
"This is the Minas Tirith News Network with continuing coverage of the destruction near Mount Erebor and the surrounding areas. It is now confirmed that all of the towns near Mirkwood National Forest, the cities of Dale and New Lake-Town, and their neighboring towns are completely destroyed. The death toll is already in the low thousands. Emergency crews do not hold out hope for survivors. Eyewitnesses are reporting mountains of charred remains-"
Bilbo huffed and turned the dial. He had no desire to hear of the massacre that had taken place. Every media outlet would be broadcasting those images for weeks. He needed to hear something useful. He turned the dial halfway and paused to listen again.
"… to the surprise of no one, the Chancellor of Isengard has announced his state's allegiance to fugitive terrorist kingpin, Sauron, and his organization. Chancellor Saruman states that his government will no longer recognize the nations of Gondor and Rohan and the Confederation. Isengard is now allied with the rogue state of Angmar and some provinces in northern Harad…"
Bilbo rolled his eyes and turned the dial again. Isengard's treachery was the most anticlimactic thing he had heard. Everyone who followed politics knew Saruman's soft stance on Sauron and Mordor hinted at backdoor dealings. It did not help that Isengard, the smallest state on the continent, held enough power to cripple neighboring countries. Bilbo would let the world leaders hash things out, though. He turned the dial to the low end and stopped. What blared out the speaker stunned him.
"Attention all listeners! The Great Drake is on the move and is believed to be heading straight for the city of Bree and the Shire region. If you have not fled, it is now fruitless to do so. The Company has failed to stop the fiend over the Long Lake. Eyewitnesses state that every Companion has sustained serious physical injuries that are affecting their ability to fight. Gondor and Rohan are rushing military aid to the borders of Bree and the Shire. The Confederation is also sending reinforcements. Local military units are forming a defensive perimeter along Bree's city limits and past the Brandywine Bridge. The Governor has ordered all emergency crews to retreat to the city's bunker. To any and all who have chosen to remain in the city, you are hereby on your own."
Bilbo silenced the radio, unable to hear more. His mind swirled with images more gruesome than the last. Smaug would show no mercy to anything that stood in his path. The foolhardy would see their precious homes become their tombs. He mourned for the soldiers who would die a fiery death in a doomed attempt to save the city.
You can end this, Bilbo.
The Company, those brave fools, would likely die. They had failed to halt Smaug's rampage. If those blessed with fantastic abilities could not stop him, no one could. No man of Gondor or Rohan or a member of the Confederation could stand up to him.
You can be the savior. You can finally prove that pig-headed fool wrong.
Bilbo took a seat at his table and buried his face in his hands. Helplessness seeped into his soul.
You have the skill, brains, and heart to halt the Great Drake. All you have to do-
Shut up! Bilbo lifted his head to glare at the Ring. It glinted serenely beneath the kitchen light. Not another word!
Do you think we're afraid of you, Bilbo?
Don't try to pretend you know me, you useless trinket. I know what you're trying to do and it won't work. If I put you on, it won't be just Smaug knocking at my door. You just want your maker to rescue you.
We have better things to concern ourselves with than our maker's childish attempts to seize power.
Bilbo sighed. This was not the first time the Ring had complained about Sauron. You can't tell me you're not looking forward to becoming the One Ring again. You're probably anxious to become Sauron's prize. To be petted and fawned over like in the old days.
Our maker has proven himself unworthy of us!Naked scorn dripped from the Ring's words. He boasted of his superiority over lesser beings and yet he lost us to a lesser being! He proclaimed himself lord and was imprisoned like a common criminal. We have no desire to return to an idiot who amasses great power and loses it because of his foolishness! He may wish a return to power, but we will not oblige him by returning to his service.
Bilbo dropped his hands and learned forward. So what do you plan on doing? I have no intention of putting you on.
Wait as we usually do, Bilbo. We waited while that cave-dweller slobbered over us. We waited while our maker plotted and schemed. We will wait until you decide to put us on. You know you want to.
Bilbo's eyes narrowed. I am nothing like Gollum or your maker!
No, you're not like either of them. If you were like our maker, we would adorn your finger and watch as the world submits you. Gondor, Rohan and the Confederation would perish. If you were like that cave-beast, we would be coveted and petted, but ignored for ages until something threatened us. You simply keep us in the back of a closet and forget we're there, but we're a temptation that never goes away. Even now, you're fighting the urge to put us on and go out to fight the lizard.
Bilbo was now out of his seat, leaning over the table to glare at the Ring. He did not want to give it the satisfaction of knowing it was right. Let me make myself perfectly clear, you foul thing! I will not be your pawn! If you don't be quiet, I'll go up on the roof with a sign that says SAURON! I HAVE YOUR RING!
The Ring fell silent, but Bilbo had the strongest impression it was sulking like an infant. Bilbo sat back down, pondering what to do. He thought of the ways out of the city. There were alternative routes that snaked through the countryside, but they were likely useless. The procrastinators would turn those routes into parking lots as they tried to escape the city. If what he heard was true, the bridge was a danger zone. The desperate who wanted out would likely battle with the military units to get across. Traveling by foot was out of the question. If Smaug was on his way, anything out in the open would fry.
He then thought of where he could go. A year after Smaug captured Mount Erebor, the leaders of every province and country in existence convened for the first time. Upon realizing it was fruitless to aid Erebor's refugees, they decided to plan in case Smaug decided to expand his reign of terror. Each ordered the construction of massive underground bunkers in undisclosed areas of their cities. The locations were known only to city officials. Savvy citizens realized certain green signs revealed the location of the bunkers. The bunkers were multistory facilities, capable of housing hundreds of civilians, medical and military personnel, and civic officials. Bilbo thought of packing his suitcase and heading to the city's bunker. That idea was dashed when he realized those bunkers would become death traps if Smaug attacked.
The faces of his former colleagues and friends stormed into his mind unbidden. Bilbo buried his head in his hands, groaning. He could see Thorin and Dwalin's scowling faces, clutching their bloodstained weapons. Nori's knowing smirk and Balin's wise sympathy. The steel glint in Kili's eyes before releasing pointed death. The sleek ferocity on Fili's face as he and his soul-swords hewed down enemies. Ori's tongue sticking out of his mouth as he knitted some fabulous scarf. Dearest Bofur…
Your level of sentiment is astounding.
Hush, you!
A part of Bilbo tried assure him that his former friends were fine. The Company was thirteen strong and blessed with powers that would protect them. The familial units each had their unique powers that could be combined into something terrifying when needed. Even if Smaug put up more of a struggle, they would be victorious. Thorin would find someway to resurrect himself if he died and Smaug still lived. His people would battle until the last man. Smaug was their oldest enemy. His escape and the destruction he wrought would ensure someone kept the fight going.
Another part of Bilbo, though, was quick to point out the flaws. Sure, the Company was thirteen strong, but they were thirteen fools. The combat-minded members always got their way. Thorin was quick to deny good counsel and actions that offered peace. His unyielding nature meant that his people were dragged into messes of Thorin's making. The Battle of the Five Armies was the predominant example. Gondor and Rohan were especially critical after learning the causes of the bloodshed. Thorin's unwillingness to recompense neighboring regions for suffering Smaug's wrath was horrible enough, but valuing the Arkenstone, the centerpiece of Erebor's Crown Jewels, more than peace was tantamount to causing another World War. The primary sin for the rest of the Company was holding their tongues. Insubordination was unheard of. It was better to be part of the group than to seem weak or scared. They stifled their common sense and sense of right and wrong. Bilbo knew this all too well.
A faint boom dragged Bilbo out of his thoughts. For a moment, he wondered if his upstairs neighbors were fleeing. Another boom told him it was coming from outside. Confused, he turned to the window, gasping at the sunlight now peeking in. He leapt up and ran to it, looking out. Clear sky greeted him as it steadily brightened.
"It can't be morning already,' he muttered.
Your ponderings take hours, Bilbo.
Another boom made him look back out. He listened carefully. The boom sounded like distant thunder, but there were no clouds in the sky. He briefly wondered if there was an oncoming storm. Puzzled, he moved back to the table and turned on the radio.
"This is the Minas Tirith News Network, now broadcasting on all stations. The Great Drake and the Company are engaged in a fearsome battle over the skies of Bree. Eyewitnesses report the situation is dire. Only five Companions are still active, but their grievous wounds are affecting their ability to fight. The military has begun firing projectiles to kill the fiend. Residents near the Brandywine Bridge and Hobbiton will likely be able to hear this. Units along-"
The hiss of static had Bilbo frantically turning the dial. No other station came through. He sat back, praying nothing was serious. He glanced at the Ring.
The transmission center in Bree has been knocked out. Smaug tossed Thorin right into it.
Bilbo leaned back. If so, Smaug'll be heading our way soon. He raked a shaking hand through his hair. What am I going to do?
We know exactly what you're going to do, Bilbo Baggins.
Bilbo glared at the Ring, but kept silent.
You are going to put us on and go out to burn the flaming lizard. You know you want to.
Had he been a weaker soul, Bilbo would have slid the Ring on and flown to Bree. Yet his stubbornness outweighed his innate desire to go out and help. He folded his arms over his middle and sat. The Ring kept silent, but its displeasure echoed through Bilbo's mind in heavy waves. Bilbo did not care, though. He simply sat and pondered. This was where he remained as the distant booms slowly morphed into the thunderous vanguard that crept closer to the city. Still, Bilbo did nothing. He just sat.