He was a good enough distance away from them to not get caught, but still close enough to throw his knife. While he was carrying the gold, he had the advantage of not being held down by heavy dwarven style armor. Bilbo pulled his next knife out; this was just going to have to make up for the last one that he had lost. They were going to pay for that.
With one swift motion, he threw it forward. This time, much to Bilbo's satisfaction, it hit its target. The large, axe wielding dwarf dropped to his knees and began to claw at the knife at his face. Bilbo was quite sure that his scream could have been heard all across Erebor.
Yes, he thought. I do hope that hurts.
The other dwarf let out a roar of anger; whether it was just a roar or something spoken in the dwarf language, Bilbo did not know. He pushed himself forward. There was a small collection of rocks around there that served as a ladder. If he could just get above the dwarf then surely he could escape him. It would be a struggle, trying to get up there while balancing all the gold, but he had been through worse.
Bilbo's eyes wondered the room, searching for any sign of it.
His heart skipped one beat, then two.
He had passed it while throwing the knife. Frantically, he picked up his pace. This was just a small misstep; he could still get away. Getting his last knife, he aimed it at the dark haired dwarf. Bilbo's heartbeat rang through his ears as he aimed it, then threw it. He turned back around, then began to run again.
Whether the knife actually hit or not, Bilbo did not know. In the next second, he was down on the ground, his face pushed against hard stone. Pain shot through every part of him.
Then there was no pain, no anything.
Lobelia aimed her knife, then threw it at the blond dwarf. The dwarf appeared to be older than the other one.
She did not see it hit, but she did hear the scream. Lobelia grinned; it served the bastard right.
"Miss Lobelia," Frodo said, grabbing her leg. The small boy looked up to her, blue eyes wide. "Where is Uncle Bilbo?"
"He probably went out to get us a little extra food for dinner. That was nice of him, was it not?" She forced a smile. He had always been so much better with interacting with the children than herself. "There is no need to worry about him. If anyone can take care of himself, then it is your uncle."
Frodo nodded. "Miss Lobelia-"
"Really, you can just call me Lobelia." She just hoped that he did not start calling her aunt. "I am not picky about formalities."
He nodded again. "Lobelia, may I please help you out sometime?"
She smirked. "Oh, I see. Your Uncle Bilbo will not take you along, so you have decided to come to me, eh? I do not think that your uncle would be too happy with me if he found out about me doing that, lad. I am sorry, but I am going to have to side with him on this."
"What? But why?" He frowned.
"There is no need to look so down." She rubbed his head; he was looking more and more like his father every day, though he still had the hair of his mother. It had been a shame when Primula and Drogo had been killed on a mission years earlier. "I actually have a few things to review tonight with you and the children."
"Really?"
"Really." She pointed to the food in his hands. "Finish your dinner and go round up the others. Do you understand?"
"What will we be doing?" He took another bite of his food, some bread that Lobelia had scrounged up well waiting for Bilbo to return.
"We are going to be reviewing a few bits of vital information. Nothing too hard, just the places to strike someone with your sword and how to properly throw a knife. We just need to make sure that no one accidentally gets cut, alright?"
Frodo nodded.
"And make sure to repeat that a few times to Merry and Pippin until you are sure that they have listened."
Frodo stuffed the rest of his food in his mouth and nodded. Then, he ran off.
Lobelia sat down with a heavy sigh. The night air was heavy, and she could hardly breathe. There was an ache inside of her, a fear that she had tried to suppress. Where was Bilbo? It had been hours since they had made the heist. She had made it off with her pickings, but what about him? If anyone was a master burglar, then it was him. Certainly he would have been back by now had he escaped.
What if he is dead?
The question hung heavy in her mind; back when it had been more than just the two of them, back when their was still a few good number of hobbits around, she had been sure that the role of leader would pass to another. But then the Tooks began to die off, the Brandybucks got too cocky, and the few Baggins perished in the wilderness or finally lost their lives to hunger. Loeblia had been the only Bracegirdle around. Slowly, whatever was left of the hobbits was ripped apart.
She was broken from her thoughts by some loud screeching and a few of the children yelling that they needed to hurry up and finish their food. Within a few minutes, all the hobbit children had gathered around her.
"Lobelia," Pippin said, "what are you going to show us?"
"Frodo already told you!" Merry said.
Lobelia sighed, then stood up. She wiped the leaves and grass off of her cloak; if she wanted to lead them, then she had to look like she knew what she was doing.
"I was just thinking," she said, "that we need a little review. I trust all of you, but it is always good to check up and make sure that we understand something." She pulled her knife out and held it up. "Now, would anyone like to show me how to properly hold this?"
Rosie raised her hand.
"Alright," Lobelia said. "Hold out your hand."
In another life, in another world, she would be giving the girl a sweet or a coin.
Rosie took the knife, then held it as she had been shown before. Her hand shook slightly.
"Relax," Lobelia said. "Shaking hands will only be a burden to you. Think of your goal."
"My goal?"
"Most of the time, your goal will be to throw this at someone to get away from them. However, at the moment you just want to show that you can hold it. I have to say, that is a much easier goal. Do you agree?"
Rosie nodded. She stilled.
"Good," she said. Lobelia stepped out of her way. "Now, throw it at that tree over there."
"She gets to throw it?" Merry broke in. "I want to do it too!"
"There is no need to worry; you will do it too. Tonight, everyone will." She placed a hand on Rosie's shoulder. "Think about your goal, but be sure to remember that you usually do not get this much time on a mission, alright?"
Rosie nodded, then threw her knife. There was still room for improvement, but she did throw it well. Lobelia walked over and pulled the knife from the tree.
"That was very good," Lobelia said. She turned back to the other children. "Rosie, you will have another chance to do this later. Now, who wants to do it next?"
The other children raised their hands, some shouting that they wanted to go first.
"Quiet down," she said.
They all quieted, their eyes on the knife.
"Frodo," she said, "you get to go next."
A few of the hobbits began to complain.
"Shush," she said. "You will all get your turn."
Thorin looked down at the body below him. This creature, whatever he was, had managed to hurt Dwalin with only a small knife. This creature had probably stolen the Arkenstone. He was so tiny, certainly tinier than most dwarves. On his head was a thick mess of chestnut brown curls, and there was a matching mess of hair on his otherwise bare feet. Surely a thief would steal shoes.
The clues clicked together; this thief was a halfling. He would have expected something better from Yavanna's children. But why were they even there?
There was no time to think of it at the moment.
Thorin picked up the body, completely unconscious. Blood was rushing out of his nose, and his face looked incredibly pale. Thorin could feel his bones; he had heard that halflings were usually not this thin. Not that it mattered to him - it just made him easier to carry. In his other hand he grabbed the sack full of gold; if his father heard that even a single coin was lost...
"Dwalin," he called out, his voice echoing across the room, "I am going to get someone for you. You just stay there."