Bilbo paused in his trek to stare up at the imposing mountain looming ahead of him, before the chain around his neck was somewhat roughly yanked and he stumbled forward. He cursed under his breath as he nearly tripped over himself, shooting a quick glare to the back of his captors heads, before he trudged on begrudgingly.
It had been a long journey from the Shire, his captors chatting amongst themselves about the place he destined to wind up. He'd been snagged from the Shire as a trophy, apparently to be presented to some royalty, like a pet. It was really all a big indignity, but at least none of the younger hobbits had wound up caught.
It had all been so quick; the big folk had appeared out of nowhere, the hobbits initially thinking nothing of them, until they'd nearly dragged poor little Rosaline Proudfoot off by her pigtails. Acton was quickly taken to free her, and Bilbo, being the pragmatic and (to his dismay) stupid hobbit that he was, let himself get caught to save anyone else from being taken.
In hindsight, it had been a truly terrible idea.
He sighed in mild relief when they finally got to the gates of the great mountain, the big folk being allowed in after a short interrogation by the dwarves guarding the place. He wanted nothing more than to finally rest his weary feet and give himself a moment to figure out how to get out of the colossal mess he'd managed to get himself into.
Of course, he was so busy toddling off in his own mind, he hadn't realized that he'd been hissed at to bow, and was nearly pulled to the floor when the chain around his neck was once again pulled unnecessarily hard. Bilbo grunted quietly, and corrected his posture as the tiny band of men bowed to a dwarf sitting in a cold looking throne, with the shiniest stone Bilbo had ever seen set high into it.
"We've come with an offering to the great Thror, King Under the Mountain, from a far off, exotic land," one of the men said, throwing his arms out, as if to make show, "We bring these tidings as a show of good will and faith. A gem of the Shire! The folk there posses no great riches, but we bring something of great value. A delicate, small thing, more than happy to do any biding his Highness wishes." And with that he swept low into a bow, and Bilbo was thrust forward, barely catching his feet under himself, before peering nervously up at his new captors through golden curls.
"I have no use for a servant," the King said flippantly, waving a hand at the band of men, who seemed to become uneasy at the comment, "But, my grandson, Thorin, may have use for it. Bring the…Shire-ling forward, so it may be inspected."
Bilbo frowned at the dwarf's obvious ignorance as to what he was, as well as his lack of pronouns. He was a 'he', dash it all, not an 'it'. He let the frown drop, though, as the Prince began to descend the stairs, and he was nudged forward by one of the men, the chain around his neck being handed over to the young royal.
"He's tiny," were the first words out of the Prince's mouth, earning an angry inhalation from Bilbo, his chest puffing up as he bit his tongue to keep from saying anything rash. "But," the prince continued, walking one way around Bilbo, then the other as to not tangle him in the chain, "he appears able bodied. I will accept this gift, and bid you thanks."
The men looked pleased, and Thorin nodded to them, before looking to the King to be dismissed, then promptly dragging Bilbo away from the throne room.
Thorin walked with Bilbo in tow for a while, before stopping in an otherwise deserted hall and turning to the hobbit.
"First off, what are you, and were you taken forcefully?" the Prince asked, unhooking the chain from the hobbit's neck and making a face at the angry red marks and traces of blood around the halflings neck.
"I," Bilbo declared, puffing up, before quickly deflating and rubbing at his sore neck, "am Bilbo Baggins, of Bag End. I am a gentle hobbit of the Shire, and of course I was taken forcefully. Do you honestly think I would've been chained, otherwise?"
Thorin simply shrugged. "Some make it a show, wanting to be close to royalty," he said noncommittally.
"Yes, well, that would be monumentally stupid, if you will excuse me for my bluntness. Who in their right mind would want to be paraded about like cattle, and spoken to like their an idiot? And to top it all off, have to leave the comforts of home to take care of those who are already pampered?!" Bilbo snapped, red in the face from lack of oxygen by the time he was finished. He took a few deep breaths, counting to ten in his head, before speaking again. "I do appologize," he murmured, glancing up at the rather startled face of the Prince, "It's just…that has been a rather long time coming."
Thorin cocked his head, looking mildly perplexed, before snorting and turning. "Well, come along then Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, hobbit of the Shire. Let's go have that wound looked at before it festers."