Author: Wolfsrainrules
Summary: Hawthorn Baggins had returned home to the Shire for a visit with a raven on her shoulder. They'd told her to send for them if she had need of anything. She'd never imagined, even for a moment, that she'd be taking them up on it like this.
Warnings: Thorin/FemBilbo. Female Bilbo. This takes place after the BoFA where the Company all lived after.
Hawthorn rushed through her home, hands flying over the shelves, and feet rushing over the floors. She had her pack in one hand while the other shoved what she didn't already have into it. She blessed Nori for ensuring she got into the habit of packing a 'grab-n-go' bag as he called it. It had a few extra pairs of travel clothes, flint, some packages of food, a journal, a cloak, an oil slick, her bedding, and an extra blanket packed away plus a few other odds and ends. She'd already belted Sting to her hip, the mithril armor from Thorin sliding over her head, and she finished shoving what she needed into the bag.
Roic flew after her, and Hawthorn blessed her paranoid dwarrow for sending him with her when she had come back to Bag End. The Company had all been involved in the rebuilding, neck deep in the mess as they tried to pull everything together after the Battle of Five Armies and Smaug both.
Hawthorn had needed to come back to see to her affairs. She'd left a letter before, of course, sent to her Grandfather the Thain, but she could not inform the Thain that she would be relocating permanently in a letter. Her 'adventure' was one thing- she'd always intended to come back at the end of that, but then Thorin happened.
Thorin happened, the Company became her family, and she'd found that 'home' had changed when she wasn't looking. She'd had to come back to see to Bag End, her holdings, her wealth, and the land, so that she could go back home to her family. That she could arrange for trade agreements while she was here was even better.
Thorin had sent guards with her, of course he had, the overprotective dwarrow, but they did no good now. She choked on her own breath at the thought. She'd seen them fighting the orcs, those dwarrow she'd grown to care for on her way back to the Shire.
They'd told her to run, and turned to face the orcs and wargs with axes, swords, and spears without another word. Her people were not equipped for this, for an invasion. The dwarrow were brave, and talented, but there were only so many of them. They would not be able to defeat the numbers of orcs and wargs that rushed into the Shire. They would try, oh would they try, but Hawthorn had seen war. She knew the odds.
Hawthorn's hands shook as she heard the screams of her people begin to sound over the air.
"Roic." Her voice shook as she rushed towards her study, reaching for the books that contained knowledge on medicinal vs edible plants, and the books her mother had kept on first aid in the wilds.
"Yes my lady?" the raven's voice was surprisingly deep.
"Go," she gasped, "fly, and tell Thorin and the others what has happened. I will flee from here- they want me and I cannot stay and sentence my people to death for my sake. I will give them something to chase, and pray that my Company can catch up to me in time."
Roic ruffled his feathers, fluffing up as he stared at her, "But my lady-"
Hawthorn shook her head, waving her hand sharply through the air in a way she had learned from Thorin.
"No Roic. They came for me, waited for me to leave Erebor's walls. This is my fault, my people are dying because the orcs followed me home. I will leave and lure them after me. I will do so, and I will leave my guard here to protect my people. I'll be able to hide better alone anyway. I need you to tell Thorin and the others, do you understand?"
Roic appeared twice his normal size as his feathers fluffed in agitation, but he dipped his head all the same.
"May your feet be given wings my lady. I will fly as swift as I am able to your mate and nestmates. I will send another back in my place."
Hawthorn pulled in a shaking, uneven breath.
"My the wind rise under your wings Roic. Now, go!"
Hawthorn flew out her back door, throwing her pack onto her back as she went. She didn't look back as Roic darted out over her head and flew straight up, like an arrow before turning towards the mountain. She didn't even shut her door behind her.
She just ran, straight for the ponies that had been hers, and her guards. Her own would be saddled, she knew, for she had planned to go to her grandfather's before the attack. She breathed a near silent thanks to Yavanna and Mahal both as she saw her pony- Nightshade- was still there, and saddled just as he should be.
She didn't slow as she rushed towards her mount, climbing the mounting platform and whistling sharply for her pony. Nightshade came to her just as he had been trained to do and Hawthorn lept for his back. It was not her most graceful or painless landing upon the saddle, but Hawthorn didn't care. She dug her heels into Nightshade's sides and leaned low over the saddle. She ignored how uncomfortable her pack was while she rode- she had no time to fix it if she wanted to pull the orc's attentions to herself.
Dain had been a blessing, giving Thorin and the Company war-trained ponies for their own. She knew Nightshade wouldn't startle at the orcs or wargs, and would in fact rise to her defense should the occasion arise. Her tongue twisted over the syllables of Khuzdul that Thorin had taught her as his Queen.
"Ride fast, Nightshade, ride fast!"
She could feel the ripple of muscle under her thighs as her pony responded as he'd been trained to do, speeding up from a trot to a canter to a gallop.
Hawthorn knew what she'd have to do next.
If she wanted the orcs and their mounts to follow her , she'd have to pull their attention from her home. She'd have to get right in the middle of the fight she could hear happening ahead of her. Her eyes narrowed sharply.
She was Hawthorn 'Bilbo' Baggins. She was Queen of Erebor, Dragon-Riddler, one of Thorin Oakenshield's Company. She had stared the Pale Orc straight in the eye and sneered. She had denied him his prey more than once, and she had been the one to part his head from his body. She had debated with elven kings, seen war.
She could do this.
All she had to do was run after all.
LINEBREAK
Thorin has a bad feeling.
Granted, Hawthorn was out of his sight and he always had a bad feeling in his chest and gut when that happened, but this was different.
None of the Company had been able to go with her this time. Usually when Thorin got this way, he could content himself with the idea that one of his most trusted, who loved Hawthorn like family, was there with her. And usually she was only headed down to a rebuilding Dale, or to the borders of Mirkwood. She had not been so far from his side since he met her in her hobbit hole.
He knew she needed to settle matters back at the Shire, and he was very well aware that with the Queen gone from Erebor's Halls, the Company did need to be there to cover her duties as well as their own. It was not easy to rebuild a Kingdom from ruin, and Thorin would not trust those who had refused to answer his call at his side in this.
Which was why the dwarrow of his company had found themselves in very important positions once Thorin had the mind to give each of them one.
Those positions were also why Hawthorn had gone back to the Shire with a dwarven guard instead of any from the Company. Thorin could not spare more than his Queen at this stage. And he knew that the guards sent with Hawthorn were Dwalin's best, but…
Thorin has a bad feeling.
Kind of like the day Smaug had come to Erebor. Which made him nervous and a nervous Thorin was dangerous.
He couldn't show that though. He was King Under the Mountain, and his people needed him to be strong for them, especially in such an early stage in rebuilding. Dwalin's presence at his shoulder was a comfort, even if his own anxiousness was making Dwalin tense.
The flutter of wings pulled Thorin's eyes upwards towards the windows that had been carved into the mountain to allow ravens easy access to the inhabitants. He began to smile as he recognized Roic, Hawthorn's personal raven, but it was wiped from his face before it could form as he took in the state of the raven.
He was standing before he'd even thought about the action, his arm lifting to give Roic a place to land. The normally graceful bird more crashed into his arm rather than land and Thorin felt his heart constrict.
Dwalin had already begun clearing the throne room of people as soon as Roic had come through the window, and Thorin was thankful as he reached his free hand up to steady the raven.
"What has happened?" His voice was a sharp, thunderous thing as fear rose up from his gut.
Roic pulled in a heavy, heaving breath, and cawed loudly.
Thorin jerked at the sound, his heart stuttering as he wondered what could have caused one of the Royal Ravens to revert from speech to the sounds of their flock. Thur flutters down from above, out of sight but always within calling distance of his assigned dwarrow- Dwalin.
Thur is a powerful raven, his black feathers hinting towards a deep blue that blends with the black until the sun glints off his feathers. He is known as the most fierce when the need to protect his messages arises, and he is a good match to Dwalin.
Roic exchanges a quick series of sounds in his own language that has Thur straightening sharply, his feathers bristling even as he lets out a sharp and angry screech.
Thorin turns to Dwalin who has approached after clearing the last of the stragglers from the room, and he can see the worry in the warrior's eyes.
Thur flings himself off of Thorin's arm where he had settled beside Roic, with a powerful flap of his wings as he darts out of window Roic had just come in from.
Finally Roic turns to him, and Thorin clenches his fist, his shoulders falling back as he instinctively braces for a hit he hasn't yet seen.
"What happened?" he repeats, his voice steady despite his fear of what news Roic has for him.
"Mahal, please," he prays, "don't let my ghivashel be dead."
Roic's chest heaves for a moment before he finally speaks in a language that Thorin can understand. "My Lady has sent me to you for aid. Orcs and wargs invaded the Shire."
Thorin's breath stops all together, and it takes strength he has no idea how he pulled from to remain on his feet and not stagger like a troll has punched him.
Roic had paused after delivering that bit of news, knowing his Lady's mate would not be able to process anything else for a few moments after. He breathes hard, having never flown so far so quickly before.
"That is not all my Lord." Roic waits only for Thorin's eyes to actually focus on him before he continues, "My Lady is being hunted. They invaded the Shire looking for her. She- she left her guard behind to defend her people from those that would stay, and she lured the rest after herself. She bid me to return to you, and ask for the Company to catch up."
For a moment, nothing happens. For an instant the throne room is silent, and Thorin cannot breathe.
Of course his kurdulu belkul would choose to act as bait when presented with a choice such as that. Of course she would.
His One stood alone, hunted across the land.
Thorin doesn't even register that he is running, one hand braced over Roic to keep him from tumbling off his arm. He cannot hear Dwalin on his heels, or how one by one each of his Company falls behind the two of them, summoned by Thorin's raven Thoth.
All he cares for is to get to Hawthorn as quickly as he can. His Kingdom is not even a thought in his mind.
LINEBREAK
Hawthorn cursed softly.
She'd led Nightshade through a river, following it upstream as far as she could to help hide their scent somewhat from the wargs on their heels, but it was too deep now. They would have to return to the shores.
She led Nightshade out of the water, sliding down in order to deal with her pack properly. She'd worn the thing on her back the entire time, but now that she'd lost the orcs on her tail for the time being, she would take a moment to settle it properly onto her pony. She blinked as the back of her pack came into view, alongside the two orc arrows that had pierced it. She wondered who had gotten the lucky hit.
It wouldn't have struck her skin at all with the mithril armor of course, but still.
She pulled herself back onto Nightshade's back, turning her eyes back to the path in front of her.
She couldn't lead the orcs to Bree. They would not be ready for a raid like that, and Hawthorn had seen enough towns burn from her actions for a lifetime after Smaug. She would not receive help from the Rangers either having come out the opposite side of the Shire to where they were patrolling right this moment and unable to turn to meet them without running afoul of the orcs.
She did, however, remember the magic in the borders of Rivendell. She remembered feeling it ripple over her skin as soon as she crossed their borders. Magic that would warn the elves as soon as the orcs stepped over their land, long before the city came into sight.
She would make for Rivendell, and pray she could make it there before the orcs caught her.
"Fly, Nightshade. Fly!"
LINEBREAK
Dis nods sharply at her brother and his Company. A part of her shares the pain, worry and the fear of losing another loved one, but she is of stone and she does not falter.
"Go," she commands, the wives of the other members of the Company standing resolute at her shoulders, "we will hold the kingdom. Bring my sister home, alongside yourselves."
Dis had not even thought to stop any of the Company from going after Hawthorn. Not even Sauron himself would have managed it should he have tried. That little hobbit was family and there was nothing a dwarf valued over family. They loved her, and beyond that she was their Queen, and their King's One, Thorin's wife, and Dis' chosen sister.
So no, Dis had not thought to stop even one of the Company from riding out to reclaim their burglar from those who hunted her.
Instead she prayed to Mahal for the safe return of all of them even as she prepared herself to rule in her brother's absence.
They had all become family to her over the months of restoration work, rather than distant relations or unknown miners. Names on the precious few tapestries that survived the Fall of Erebor, the lines she memorized that spoke of blood, lineage, lines of inheritance.
These were the dwarrow who had answered when her brother called, these were the dwarrow who had willing hearts and loyalty. She had gotten to know each of them personally, and grown to care for them as well. They were her family, regardless of blood or race, and Dis wanted all of them home and safe.
Translations:
Ghivashel - treasure of all treasures.
Kurdulu belkul - mighty heart
Crow Names:
Roic-Hawthorn
Urlk - Dis
Thoth - Thorin
Lak - Fili
Lark - Kili
Thur - Dwalin
Naghr - Balin
Talc - Oin
Gol - Gloin
Dath - Dori
Drov - Nori
Voric - Ori
Crag - Bombur
Birg - Bofur
Birr - Bifur