Halloooooooooooo! I'm back again (finally) and with a new chapter to attempt to make it up you all! I don't have much to say except thanks for reading! Since I don't have the imagination to create an entire universe with languages, landmarks and species, I am not J.R.R Tolkien and so don't own the Hobbit nor am I Peter Jackson who brought it into reality. Thank you.

Khuzdul

Sindarin

Hobbitish

…

Bilbo was exhausted. Not exhausted in the way of fatigue, as a matter of fact he was finding this journey to be very refreshing so far as he hasn't been out of Hobbiton for nigh on a year, but exhausted in the way of being extremely tired of keeping up this charade. He was a brilliant actor and there were absolutely no cracks at all in his gentlehobbit facade but he was sick and tired of the Dwarves' blatant disregard for anything they deemed weaker than themselves. Only Gandalf talked to him as and equal. The rest of the company either insulted him or ignored him completely. Some actually did both, (looking at you Thorin) however impossible that may sound. There had been a small debacle with his lack of a handkerchief as well as a completely fake allergy to horse hair that had been fun to do but now, he was bored.

Sighing as Thorin called for them to set up camp before watching as the others all moved their bedrolls away from him, he walked to the edge of the clearing in which they were camping and quickly and deftly set up his own bedroll. Having finished 5 minutes before everyone else, he walked into the woods to get firewood and have a decent conversation. Once he was safely hidden by the trees, he dropped his glamour and stood in his true form. It was quite similar to his gentlehobbit disguise but with a few key differences. He no longer was rotund but was now nicely well toned, lean with visible muscles. His hair was slightly longer, now reaching his shoulders with a small braid in. Hobbits used braids as well you see, to symbolise status. Bilbo had a braid of royalty. A scar ran down through his left eyebrow and he was slightly taller. He looked far more regal and warrior-like now. Wishing that he was wearing his adventuring clothes as his gentlehobbit ones were now too small, he silently walked over to a nearby tree.

A young owl, that was awake as it was late evening, flew to a branch that was near his head. Bilbo smiled, animals would always recognise a Hobbit. "Hello my young feathered friend."He whispered to the bird. The owl hooted several times. Bilbo sighed. "I miss the intelligent conversation of my people young one. I wish that there was no such need for secrecy. But when everyone thinks that you are one thing, if you show yourself as something other than what you have previously given them reason to perceive, then they will not take it well. I can not stay like this forever my friend, I will have to find a way to be able to relax slightly while on this journey." The owl hooted some more and rubbed his head against Bilbo's fingers. "I agree," he said. "I will do as you have suggested. Dropping my glamour slowly is a good way to allow them to believe that this journey has changed me." He paused and then gave the owl a thoughtful glance. "I don't suppose that you would be willing to carry a message to the Shire would you?"He asked. A few more soft hoots came his way. Bilbo's face lit up with a bright smile and he patted the owl's head in joy. "Oh thank you! Could you tell them that everything is going fine and that bad has happened?"The owl gave a sharp nod before launching itself of the branch and into the night.

Turning, Bilbo gathered some more firewood before heading back to the camp. He walked over to Bombur, the Dwarf cooking, and asked him where to put it. Bomber told him just to place it on the floor near the fire. As wandered over to his bedroll, he could feel Bombur's eyes on him.

Later that night, Bilbo woke, frustrated by the grating sound of Bombur's snoring. Tiptoeing over the minefield of sleeping Dwarves, he made his way over to where the ponies were tethered before reaching into his pocket and bringing out an apple for his pony, Myrtle. "Hello, girl. Who's a good girl? It's our little secret, Myrtle. You must tell no one. Shhhhhhh." Patting her nose gently, he smiled, the horses didn't care about whether he was a true Hobbit or not, they just wanted food. Suddenly, a blood-curdling screech rent the air. His eyes narrowed, Orcs. Unturned Orcs by the sound of it. Pretending to be scared, he whipped around to face Fili and Kili who were on second watch. "What was that?"

"Orcs." Kili said ominously.

"Orcs?" Bilbo repeated fearfully. He noticed Thorin shooting out of bed like a rocket at his words. "Aye, throat-cutters. There'll be dozens of them out there." Fili replied in the same tone as Kili. "The lone-lands are crawling with them. They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood." Kili finished the chilling description. If Bilbo had actually been a gentlehobbit, he would have been terrified. As such, he had spent enough time with young fauntlings to know when someone was trying to scare him. Although, the boys would have given it away anyway with the way they were snickering together. That appeared to irritate Thorin. Bilbo recalled from his history books and lessons that he was their Uncle, their Mother's Brother. "You think that's funny? You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?" The older Dwarf growled. "We didn't mean anything by it." Kili replied sheepishly. This managed to annoy Thorin even further. "No you didn't. You know nothing of the world." He then stalked off and began brooding on a rock at the edge of camp. His eyes had the look of someone who was reliving bad memories.

"Don't mind him, laddie." Balin reassured Kili. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain... ...King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient Dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first. Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs... ...led by the most vile of all their race: Azog the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc... ...had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began... ...by beheading the king. No! Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing. Taken prisoner or killed... ...we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death... ...were upon us. That is when I saw him. A young Dwarf prince... ...facing down the pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe. His armor rent... ...wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield. Azog the Defiler learned that day... ...that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied... wand drove the Orcs back. And our enemy... ...had been defeated. But there was no feast... ...nor song that night... ...for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. And I thought to myself then... ...there is one who I could follow. There is one... ...I could call king." All of the Dwarves were on their feet, looking at their leader as he turned away from the echoes of the battle in his mind.

"And the Pale Orc? What happened to him?" Bilbo asked, breaking the tension. Thorin looked even more furious than usual, if that was possible. "He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago." Bilbo bit his lip, he hopes that Thorin doesn't kill Azog before he can explain everything to the Dwarves.

A few days later, it was raining. Not light rain that made a quiet pitter-patter on your oilskin. Nay, this was proper rain, large, heavy, thick droplets of water pelting from the sky and breaking open on your head. Soaking you right down to the bone so you couldn't even feel the cold anymore. Naturally, the Dwarves were complaining. "Here, Mr. Gandalf? Can't you do something about this deluge?" Dori asked, irritated.

"It is raining, master dwarf. And it will continue to rain until the rain is done! If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard." Was the mouldy mage's reply and what followed was a rather boring conversation about whether there were any other wizards into which Bilbo was able to slip a few veiled insults.

That night, they camped at a ruined farmhouse. Whilst setting up his bedroll, Bilbo found the perfect opportunity to let his mask slip a little. Fili and Kili were having an argument as they tied up the ponies and he heard Kili say "Rukhs tumbin!" Which roughly translates to orc privates. Since he was walking past at the time, he took the chance to say "language!" quite loudly before walking off whistling. He left the 2 brothers gaping after him.

Gandalf had had another argument with Thorin and had stalked off into the woods like a petulant fauntling which left Bilbo having to add asking where the mothball was to his scared persona. It was not very fun. Bofur passed him 2 bowls of stew and asked him to give them to Fili and Kili. As he walked into the woods however, Bilbo couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong…

...

So there's another chapter! Trolls next. The voting is now closed and I will be revealing the result soon in a chapter. Until the next chapter then, I bid you adieu!

FallohideDragon