After what seemed to Bilbo like an awfully long stretch of trudging through the dense forest the pair finally stumbled out into a clearing, at the other end of which was nestled a cozy-looking wooden building. A sign was hanging above the door and swinging gently in the autumn breeze, the words "The Mountain Hall" carved into the soft wood and painted a rusty red color, faded by the elements. Gazing back past the building and through the surrounding underbrush he could see that, true to it's name, the place was sat right at the foot of a rather tall mountain, rising slowly but steadily up behind the structure.
Thorin panted a little and gestured widely to the building as Bilbo struggled to free his hair from the snagging bushes and brambles, every inch of the golden locks matted and littered with twigs, leaves, and splotches of mud. "Here we are, our dining destination."
Bilbo gathered as much hair into his arms as he could and stepped forward hesitantly, looking over the place warily. "What is it?" CeCe trotted up next to him and tilted her head, her ears flopping to one side.
"It's a tavern. A very friendly establishment, wonderful entrees." He tried to keep the snark from his voice, he really did. He mostly succeeded, too. This seemed to convince Bilbo, his face brightening as he started to march purposefully towards the door, only to be stopped after a few steps by one of Thorin's palms flat on his chest. "Woah there, hold on Blondie," he ignored the kid's indignant Bilbo, thank you very much-! and continued, "I should probably go in first, you know, to check the place out and make sure they've got a table for us. You just stay here for a moment and I'll be right back." He met his eyes, waiting for Bilbo's small nod, and then he quickly walked up and swung open the great round wooden door, slipping inside.
He had barely a moment to gather his thoughts, pressed up against the back of the closed door, before a heavy hand clapped onto his shoulder and up billowed a chorus of booming voices shouting his name.
"Thorin! Finally you turned up, we were starting to think you'd been caught!" The hand squeezed his shoulder hard and Thorin frantically shushed the rowdy group. The man carried on, his voice dropping lower, tinged with concern. "What's wrong? You did get it, didn't you?"
"Yes, I got it Dwalin, but listen, I don't technically have it at this moment." Voices started to rise again in confusion and he shushed them again, a high-pitched hiss of breath, glancing out a dirty window to where Bilbo stood fiddling with his hair. "I'll explain everything, eventually, but for now I need you guys to act mean. I'm not alone at the moment, and if you all don't scare the living daylights out of my friend out there then this is going to take a whole lot longer than it should." He met his friend's eyes and gave him a hard stare, pleading with him to understand. "We can't afford to wait any longer."
It was Dwalin he was talking to, afterall, and that meant he didn't have to ask twice before gaining his full, unwavering support in the blink of an eye. He met his stare just as deeply, then, after a moment, gave a brisk nod and shouted above the racket, "Alright lads, whoever comes in that door after Thorin just pissed in your ale and is askin' you t'drink it, understood?" Like Dwalin, the rest of their group were as loyal as they come, and eager for any opportunity to have a good laugh to boot, and with as little information as Thorin gave them they were grinning and snickering into their un-spoilt drinks, up to the task.
Thorin heaved a breath of relief and gave the room a wink before slinking back out the door, coming back in a quick minute later with a wide-eyed Bilbo at his heels.
Walking into the tavern Bilbo was struck with the sinking feeling that this was not how "friendly neighborhood restaurants" usually felt. He let Thorin lead the way, still wary of this whole adventure he'd decided was a good idea, and trailed behind him, bundles of hair in his arms piled up to his nose. He peered over it at the men standing in rigid lines on either side of them, varying heights but all of them taller than Bilbo, and all of them with a nasty scowl on their face and a wicked glint in their eye. CeCe moved from where she was perched on his shoulder to burrow into the locks in his arms to escape their jagged glares. Bilbo rather wished he could join her. Come on now, none of that! It's gonna take a lot more than cold shoulders in some dingey roadhouse to keep me from seeing those lights, he reprimanded himself and stood a little taller as they inched deeper into the warmth of the den, the only sound the shuffling of their feet and the crackling of a wood fire in a pit set against the far wall.
He met as many glares as he could, with as steely a resolve as he could muster with mud on his face and twigs in his hair, and was proud when he didn't trip over his own feet with his nerves. He finally snapped his gaze from a tall, muscular man covered in tattoos who was very menacingly sharpening an axe when Thorin called to him from ahead.
"Blondie! Come look at this, this man has an axe in his head! Just stuck right in there, come over here and ask him if you can touch it." The aforementioned man growled something at him then that he couldn't understand and slammed a thick fist against his own chest, some other men nearby snickering when it made Bilbo jump.
Observing the show with a manic glint in his eye, a short, gangly man wrung his pale, spindly hands together and ducked out the door, careful to remain unseen. Not a single head turned at his exit and a sly grin crept over his snaggly teeth as he slunk away and out of sight.
"My my, what have we got here, lads?" Bilbo gasped and spun on his heels, nice try at not acting like a frightened little town mouse, bumping firmly into the chest of a man with an earring made of bone and a strange, dog-eared hat askew on his head.
Bilbo gulped and took a step back, squaring his shoulders as best he could through his fear. "I'm- my name is B-Bilbo Baggins, hm, and- and I'm on my way to see the m-magic lights." He jutted out his chin, and for all that his voice wavered he stood as tall as he could manage, shuffling the bundles of hair in his hands.
The man stared him up and down, stepping closer so that he was looming over him. He took in a deep, slow breath through his nose and Bilbo fought the urge to close his eyes and brace for whatever was coming next.
He blinked more than once in confusion when instead of a shout- or, stars forbid, the swing of an arm- the man deflated, slouching his shoulders and placing a mitted hand on one of Bilbo's shoulders heavily.
"I'm sorry Thorin, I can't do it. Just look at that face! Where did you find this lad, anyway?" The man took his hand from Bilbo's shoulder and put both of them on his knees, cocking his head and squinting at him. "He looks like a wee canary on his first flight from the nest." When he met Bilbo's eyes again they were kind, warm even. He let his head fall to one side and scrunched up his nose in confusion, jumping when that garnered actual cooing from somewhere in the throng of previously threatening men. He whipped around to stare at Thorin, hoping he could convey whatever four question marks and a handful of exclamation marks looked like with his face alone.
Thorin was still standing next to the man with the head injury, who now wore an openly curious expression, and was pinching the bridge of his nose with a groan.
"Thorin..?"
"Nothing, it's nothing. These uh, these are my friends, I didn't know they'd be here today." Bilbo turned back towards the group before them after a beat, reminding himself to bring up exactly what just happened to Thorin later.
"Terribly sorry about that laddie, y'never know what sorts are roaming around these hills, never hurts to be cautious." A shorter man stepped through the ring and stood in front of Bilbo, his eyes crinkled in a warm smile and his forked white beard swaying as he walked. He looked to Bilbo what a grandfather must look like, if he'd actually met someone's grandfather to compare him to. He stuck out a hand and shot Thorin a hard look over Bilbo's shoulder, his smile back in place an instant later. "Balin, at your service."
"Bilbo Baggins, a-at yours, I suppose." He shifted the loops of hair in his arms to free a hand to shake Balin's and noted several noises of curiosity from the group.
The muscular man from before stepped forward, his arms crossed and his expression no less stern than when they walked in the door. "And what brings you here, Mister Baggins?" his tone was like the stone of the mountain beneath them, hard and cold. "How d'you know Thorin?"
Bilbo cleared his throat and twisted fistfulls of hair in his hands. Alright Bilbo, time to really sell it. Don't muck it up, or they could still potentially decide to throw you in a pot with some radishes and have a 'naive adventurer' soup. "He's my guide, you see. It's my birthday tomorrow, and he's taking me to see the magic lights, as I said." He looked down at CeCe's encouraging look peeking out from the golden tresses in his arms and smiled softly. "It's been my dream, for as long as I can remember."
The tattooed man said nothing, just clenched his jaw and stared at Thorin before nodding once and stepping around Bilbo to go and stand by his side.
The man with the hat piped up from where he'd gone to sit at the bar, the rest of the men slowly dispersing to sit around rickety wooden tables scattered around the room, eyes still hardly leaving Bilbo.
"Ah, I had a dream once, m'self."
Bilbo perked up, glad for the change in subject to anything but himself. "What was it?"
"I always thought I'd grow up and own a toy shop with Bifur over there," He raised his drink to the man with the axe in his head who muttered something unintelligible, eyes downcast. "Quite good with our hands, we are. Whittlin' and that. When I was a lad I had the best spinny-tops, thanks to him." He was smiling, but it was muted and far away, and it didn't reach his eyes.
"Why didn't you?" his voice was a quiet light in the dark silence that had blanketed the tavern at the man's melancholy musings. Behind him he could hear Thorin sigh and the muscular man almost growl. The man with the hat just met his eyes for a moment before taking the hat off, scratching his head idly and fiddling with the ratty edges.
"Because it doesn't pay enough. Hardly anything does 'round here, y'don't really have much of a choice in career when there's no food on the table." Several of the other patrons murmured their agreement into their drinks, the mood turning the room cold.
Bilbo looked around the room, taking in the wistful expressions and sad eyes all around him before settling back on the man at the bar. "I'm, I'm so sorry.. Did all of you have to give up your dreams to survive?" Not having enough to eat was never a problem for Bilbo, his father went out and brought back ample supplies regularly, and up in his tower he'd had everything he'd ever needed. He'd always felt a fair bit confined, trapped within it's walls, but he was starting to realize the other areas in which he was lucky, luckier than the people sitting around him.
He looked around the room again, meeting each of their eyes with what he hoped was quiet respect, his heart heavy. When he landed on Balin the man spoke up. "I always imagined I'd be quite good as a book keeper, maybe a writer." He shook his head when Bilbo blinked in silent question.
A man spoke up across the table from him, thick red hair like a mane around his head and face. "I thought I'd make a great accountant, but there's not much use in counting when it can all be done on one hand how much you have to last the month." He huffed and took an angry swig of his drink as another man spoke, scoffing.
"I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life. Didn't have to decide, turns out. Was just pure luck I turned out to be better at taking than earning." He spluttered into his own drink as an older, grey haired gentleman sitting beside him smacked the back of his pointed head.
Bilbo didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. He tried to convey as much sympathy as he felt through his gaze, and he startled when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.
"Things have never been easy for us; these people have given up so much more than they should ever have had to," Thorin's voice was low and even, just next to his ear. He sighed again, sounding resolute. "If anyone's dream is going to come true, it may as well be yours." He smiled down at him, just a slight upturn of the corners of his lips, but it warmed Bilbo to his core, chasing away the cold that had seeped into his bones.
He found himself smiling back far too easily.
Voices piped up louder now, latching onto the hope that Bilbo brought with him, all in gracious support of a man they'd tried to scare the wits out of not fifteen minutes earlier. What strange company Thorin Oakenshield keeps, he thought to himself, failing to contain the shy grin that broke out at the cheer.
Thorin raised a hand to quiet the din and took his hand off of Bilbo's shoulder, leaving the skin tingling beneath his shirt. "I suppose some introductions are in order..." He went around the room and named them all, friends and brothers and cousins and all like family to Thorin, if their comfortable jokes and jibes were anything to go by. The man with the hat, Bofur, he was called, tugged on one of the plaits in his hair as he caught his breath after some remark about Dwalin naming his axes after his childhood pets, Bilbo shuffling the -quite heavy- hair in his arms again and piping up.
"Um, Bofur? Excuse me, but how is your hair done up like that? Do you think, well, possibly, could you... do mine?" He dropped his tresses to the floor for emphasis, and he was buried up to his knees in filthy, matted bundles.
Bofur blinked and barked out a laugh, tugging on his hair again. "I reckon we can fix you up nice there, Mister Bilbo. Dori! Oin! Lend us a hand will you? Dwalin, grab a bucket!"
Bilbo could only watch as his hair was scrubbed and rinsed in a series of buckets, the twigs and debris picked out of it carefully and thoroughly, his stuttered o-only if it isn't too much trouble! and oh really you are all too kind, I-! waved off with friendly hands. They sat in a line, combing through the now shining locks and weaving strands of it all around in dizzying patterns. Thorin stood to the side and hovered awkwardly, and Bilbo was certain that if asked he would say he was "supervising".
In what seemed like no time at all, Bilbo's impossibly long hair was fastened into a single, thickly and beautifully wound braid, hanging down his back and stopping just past his calves. He spun around experimentally and giggled in delight. "Oh it's wonderful! Thank you, all of you, so much!" He wiggled the braid in front of CeCe who sniffed the end of it curiously, Thorin biting back the smile that was threatening to creep across his face at the sight.
"Really, I don't know how I can repay you all for your kindness." Bilbo said earnestly, pulling the braid over his shoulder to stroke. Balin stepped up and put both hands on his shoulders, gazing up at him warmly.
"Go live your dream, laddie. For all of us, for you. That's how you can repay us." Bilbo's eyes glistened and he beamed at him, nodding fervently before turning his head and meeting Thorin's eyes where he stood off to the side.
"I will."
Thorin blinked, a slight blush creeping up his neck, and as he opened his mouth to say something Dori gave a shout from the far wall.
"Palace guards! A-And a lot of them!" He was crowded up against the dingy window by the door, Nori already leaping behind the bar and thunking around under the counter.
"Thorin! Bilbo! Get over here, you need to get out!" Bilbo shot a fearful glance at Thorin, who nodded once sharply and moved quickly to join Nori, before scooping CeCe up into his arms and running after him.
Nori had pulled an old rug aside to reveal a floor hatch with a heavy iron lock clasping it closed, which he made quick work of unlocking. He flung the heavy door open on it's hinges and grabbed a torch from the wall sconce behind them, handing it to Thorin and ushering them down with a hand to Bilbo's back.
"Quickly, we'll stall them as long as we can!" Thorin climbed down first, the rickety ladder creaking with every step, before using the torch to light Bilbo's way as it was his turn to follow.
Reaching the bottom he dropped down next to Thorin, grabbing his arm for support as they both stared back up, the shouting of guards cut off suddenly and eerily as the hatch swung shut, plunging them into darkness.
Thorin held the torch in front of them and turned to look down at Bilbo with an almost frantic intensity, the flames licking up and flickering in his eyes.
"Run."
They ran and ran and ran down a long, low-ceilinged tunnel, layers of dust billowing out around their pounding feet. They ran until Bilbo was wheezing beside him and grasping at his shirt sleeve, disheveled from their escape. They ran until Thorin could hear something other than the screaming thud of his heartbeat in his ears.
Finally they stopped, keeled over and heaving for breath, no other sound piercing the quiet until Bilbo panted out, "Thorin, who were those men? Why were they after us?"
Thorin met his eyes and quickly had to retreat away from the fear there, making them shine in the firelight. He clenched his jaw and started moving again, a slow walk after their sizeable headstart, and Bilbo fell in step beside him. "Let's just say they don't really like me."
Bilbo scoffed, still a little out of breath. "That's a bit of an understatement I'd say, wouldn't you? Those men were armed, Thorin."
"They really don't like me."
He could feel Bilbo's glare, hotter than the torchlight on his skin.
"Look, it's a long story but-" Suddenly Thorin stopped in his tracks, putting a hand out to stop Bilbo as well. "Do you hear that?" Bilbo huffed next to him and made it halfway through his retort when the words fell from his mouth and he stopped. He heard it too, the soft rush of running water echoing down the tunnel, getting louder with each new step they took deeper through the heart of the mountain.
Their tentative curiosity was quickly replaced by a renewed urgency as the angry shouts of the palace guards rang through the tunnel, reverberating harshly off the rocky walls and sounding much closer behind them than was at all comfortable.
Sharing only a quick glance the pair ran towards the less life-threatening of the sounds, coming out of the passage and out into a large open space, a looming cave with dark stone walls that glittered with moisture, dripping stalactites hanging ominously high above them. Opposite where the tunnel breached the cave wall was the cave mouth, wide and gaping, like some great giant had taken a knife and cleaved the space in two. They couldn't see anything beyond the mouth, however, as the entire opening was right up against the back of an enormous waterfall, the rushing cascade buidling into a roar in the enclosed space.
They hardly had a moment to take in the vastness and quite dead-endness of it before the guards were upon them, some three or four with stern expressions and swords drawn. Thorin glared at them, his anger rumbling in his chest like the sound a mountain makes just before it lurches forward in an avalanche. He placed himself in front of Bilbo, staring down the men with his arms raised enough to tell them that they very much shouldn't get any closer, if they knew what was good for them.
"Give it up Oakenshield, you've run out of places to hide." One of the guards stepped forward just once, nodding with certainty towards the wall of water behind the two of them.
Thorin just shrugged, his body tense and ready. "Haven't run out of places to fight, though, have I?"
For a moment, no one breathed. Thorin clenched his fists, the guards readied their weapons, and Bilbo gulped.
Just like that the moment was broken and the guards lunged, two of them for Thorin and one for Bilbo behind him.
Thorin dodged their blows deftly, sweeping out a leg and tripping one of them onto his back, the air knocked from his chest. He raised an arm just quick enough to block a blow from a sword hilt, grabbing the guard's wrist and yanking down, sending the man tumbling. He heard Bilbo yelp, followed by a loud thwang, and Thorin spun around to see Bilbo wielding the frying pan he had no idea Bilbo had brought along but was incredibly glad he did.
Distracted as he was his head was suddenly jerked back, one of the fallen guards having stumbled back up and grabbed hold of his ponytail, pulling hard. Thorin stumbled, falling hard against the cold rock of the cave floor. Before he could catch a breath a sword blade was sweeping down towards him, and he rolled away just in time to hear it clang loudly on the rock just behind his head.
Bilbo was swinging his pan wildly at the one guard still pursuing him, keeping him at a distance and inching backwards with each swing. Another guard reared on Thorin, swinging his sword high and Bilbo was moving before he even decided to.
"Thorin! Catch!" He turned just in time to catch the frying pan in one fist and block the sword blow, sending a wide-eyed look Bilbo's way when it was safe to do so.
Bilbo let out a breath when he actually caught the thing and used it, but he jumped back with a shout as the guard that was still very much attacking him took his chance to swing at him. He'd jumped back too far, though, and he slipped on the wet edge of the cave mouth, the roar of the wall of water impossibly loud in his ears as he fell through it, scrabbling for a handhold at the last second. He didn't fall, and, hanging suspended there halfway out of the waterfall with a frazzled CeCe held tight in his other arm he could see past it. There was a steep crevice where the cave floor ended, stretching down into the hazy oblivion of the water crashing down down down below them. Across from the cave, though, across the gap, there was an outcropping of rock, the continuing mountainside pocked with deep pits and jagged rises. It looked climb-able, at least much more of a way out than a dead-end cave. Some of the outcrops were large enough for a person or two to stand on and almost horizontal, and it was worth any shot they could take.
He was pulled back into the cave spluttering and soaked to the bone by Thorin's fist balled tight in the front of his vest, his eyes wide and fierce. Thorin swung hard at the guard that had been after Bilbo, catching his jaw with a sickening crack. The other two were down, cluctching their sides and groaning. Bilbo saw it as their window and pulled Thorin over to the waterfall, sticking out a hand to part the water so Thorin could see what he'd seen.
"We have to jump, it's our only way out!" Thorin's brow was scrunched tight in confusion and the whites of his eyes were gleaming in the low light of the cave.
He nodded once, resolute, and walked quickly to the back of the cave near the tunnel entrance. Bilbo stepped aside and Thorin stared ahead with a hard determination, breathing heavily out his nose as he charged, using the running start to burst through the wall of water and out of the cave, like he'd never been there. Bilbo scrambled to the edge and stuck his head out, hanging it in relief when he saw Thorin sprawled across one of the flatter outcrops, rising shakily to his feet. He shouted over the crashing of the water.
"Alright, I'm coming now! Don't-" he swallowed thickly. "don't let me fall, Thorin." Without waiting for a reply he pulled his head back inside, shaking the water from his eyes as he ran to the tunnel mouth. The guards were already almost back on their feet, he didn't have time to dwell on what would happen if this didn't work. He took a deep breath and, holding CeCe to his chest with both arms wrapped around her, bolted for the opening, the hand of one of the guards just missing his ankle as he leapt through the water.
All sound fell away as he soared, mottled grey nothingness above and below him. He couldn't let CeCe fall, which meant he wouldn't have hands to grab onto the ledge with should he miss his mark. He shut his eyes tight and let whatever was going to happen happen, and he gasped and flung them open again when he landed, safely and securely against Thorin's chest and into his outstretched arms.
Neither of them had time to celebrate their both being still alive and escaped before Thorin was stumbling, the force of catching Bilbo throwing them backwards. Thorin's arms tightened around him, and his around CeCe, as Thorin lost his footing and they were all sent hurtling off the ledge and down into a crack in the mountainside.
They were falling, and they kept on falling and falling and falling, down a long and narrow shaft of rock. They collided with the shaft wall on their descent and Thorin twisted their weight, the flesh of his arm ripped into by the sharp points, just inches from Bilbo's head where he cradled it away from the impact. He let out a loud growl that was swallowed up as they reached the bottom and plunged under water.
Bilbo emerged with a gasp, CeCe shivering on his head and holding tight to his hair. Thorin came up a moment later, favoring one arm to clutch at the mossy rock wall around them. They all looked up in unison, the slash of light high above them small and as good as celestial, so far away from them it was.
Bilbo clutched at the wall, having no skill at all in staying afloat, and started to panic. "Thorin- Thorin I can't feel the bottom, can you-?"
"No, it's too deep. We have to try and climb out, just-" He scrambled to pull himself up, getting only an inch when his grip slipped and he fell back down with a splash. The rounded shaft wall, only about four feet in diameter, was coated in a slick, slimy sludge, built up no doubt by years of trickling residue from the waterfall somwhere above them.
An angry shout tore through him and he slammed a fist against the useless stones. They were trapped. Nothing but water beneath them, high walls towering above too slick to climb, and Thorin was bleeding quite a lot now, his shirt sleeve hanging in crimson ribbons. He was certain Bilbo didn't know how to swim, how could he, and they could only tread water for so long.
They were essentially rats down a well, left to die, and Thorin hated that Bilbo was here with him. He should be safe, happy, that white-hot grin blazing across his face as he stares up at his magic lights. But instead he's here with a screw up of a thief, down a dark wet hole, slow death inevitable. He was about to open his mouth and apologize, apologize for everything he'd put him through,when a very distinct sound sapped the words away, turning sour in his throat.
Bilbo was crying.
"I never sh-should've come here, I never should've done this..." He had a hand pressed to his eyes, the other still clutching the wall to stay afloat. "You shouldn't be here, stuck with me... It's all my fault. I'm s-so sorry Thorin..." he choked out a sob and Thorin couldn't force himself to speak, trapped in yet another way as he could only look on and watch the kid fall apart.
Bilbo sniffled and chuckled out a cold laugh, no trace of real humor in it. "Oakenshield... if only it could've protected you from me, huh?" He sniffed and wiped his nose across his arm, eyes downcast.
Thorin finally found his words again, though they were incredibly soft and not at all the ones he'd planned on saying.
"Fitzdurin."
Bilbo looked up at him with shimmering eyes and sniffed again. "What?"
"My real name is Thorin Fitzdurin." He bit the inside of his cheek and looked away, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Someone ought to know."
When he finally looked back up and met Bilbo's eyes again, took in that muted but genuine smile, he couldn't find it in him to be too embarrassed about it. He didn't want to spend his last few hours on earth brooding about a past he coudln't change.
He wanted to spend it making Bilbo smile as many times as he could before it was all over.
Bilbo spoke up again, a confession of his own, and Thorin was brought back to reality.
"I have magic hair that glows when I sing, heh..."
What?
Bilbo's expression went from sadly wistful to acutely focused. "I have magic hair that glows when I sing! Thorin that's it!" He was beaming at him now, and Thorin couldn't grab hold of a single one of the responses flying around his head to throw out of his mouth before Bilbo began to sing, high and thrumming with a hope that Thorin desperately clung to, dispite himself.
Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine...
Thorin gaped as, starting from his roots and slowly creeping all the way through his long braid, a bright golden light like the sun shining through the dappled yellow leaves of autumn illuminated Bilbo's hair, lighting up the dark space.
When Bilbo finished out the verse every last hair on his head was blazing bright, shimmering and sparkling as it swayed in the water. Bilbo laughed in triumph and grabbed the end of the braid, thrusting it down into the water as far as he could go without going under.
"Can you see anything? A way out?" He swivveled it this way and that, and Thorin pulled himself together long enough to gently grab Bilbo's wrist and take the braid from him, taking a breath and plunging down into the depths.
He came back up with a gasp for air and grinned at Bilbo. "There's a passage, leading away from the side of this one. It comes up into an air pocket, it's the best option we've got." Bilbo pried CeCe off of his scalp and held her, still smiling. "You'll have to hold your breath, okay? You go first, use your hair to guide you." Bilbo nodded bravely and took a long, deep breath, CeCe following suit, locking eyes with Thorin before going down. Thorin followed close behind, and after an almost too long swim through the side tunnel they came up desperately for air in another cave, this one thankfully not submerged.
The trio hauled themselves up and out of the water, Thorin giving Bilbo his good arm to pull him out, and they both laughed in utter relief at the sight of an entrance -or rather, an exit- just off to the side, sunlight, streaming in and glittering on the water.
They stepped out into the light, blinking into it after so long in the dark, and Bilbo sighed a ragged sigh with his whole body at the feeling of soft grass underfoot. it seemed they'd gone all the way through the mountain, getting spat out at the edge of a deep forest, lapping at the mountain's feet.
Thorin lifted his face to the sun and breathed deep, in awe that they were alive at all, after all of that, all thanks to...
His head snapped upright, and he turned slowly to look at Bilbo intently.
"Your hair glows."
Bilbo smiled sheepishly up at him.
"Why does your hair glow?!"
Bilbo shook his head, nudging CeCe from shaking the water out of her fur, and walked ahead.
"Come on, let's go make camp. Or something."
Thorin had no choice but to follow, absently wringing water out of his own hair as his jaw attempted to touch the floor.