When Bilbo pushed open the great wooden door of Beorn's hall, it was to the sound of rumbling dwarf-chatter, laughter and snatches of song. But when he stepped through with Kili in tow, the room fell silent. Bilbo paused on the threshold. The dwarves were seated around the long wooden table, Bombur frozen in the act of passing on a plate piled high with bread and honey. All of them were staring, and Bilbo felt Kili shift restlessly beside him.

Bilbo cleared his throat. "Well - good evening, everyone," he said, doing his best to sound cheerful. He started to steer Kili around the table to the far end of the room, but the little dwarf stopped in his tracks when Dwalin suddenly stood, the bench scraping back beneath him.

"If you'd like to join us, laddie?" he said, looking at Kili and gesturing at an empty space next to Balin. Balin smiled and patted the bench.

Kili did not raise his eyes from the floor; it was not clear if he even knew he had been addressed. After a moment, Bilbo shifted from foot to foot and cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Er," he said, and to his great relief Dwalin - who, to be honest, had always rather terrified him - seemed to take this as an answer.

"Well, if you change your mind," he said gruffly, and sat back down with a thump. Bilbo gave them all a smile which no doubt looked rather watery and pushed Kili onwards until they reached the relative safety of the dark corner that Kili had chosen as his own. He glanced back to see that the dwarves were all still staring.

"Carry on," he said, waving his hand. Thankfully, Bofur chose that moment to loudly start telling a story about his third cousin's husband's friend who had once accidentally singed half his beard off standing too close to a forge, and in a moment the silence had been replaced by general hubbub, although it was more subdued than before.

Bilbo busied himself finding something for Kili to sit on, only to find when he turned back that the little dwarf had sunk to sit on the floor with his back to the wall, and refused to be moved despite Bilbo's entreaties. He watched the company intently, though if he saw anyone looking back he dropped his eyes quickly to the floor. Bilbo sighed. Ten dwarves and a wizard all at once were certainly a large mouthful to be swallowed, as he well knew, and Kili was coping surprisingly well compared with his earlier introduction to Thorin, not to mention Fili and Bilbo himself. He patted the little dwarf's knee.

"I'll get us some food," he said.

Bilbo found a tray on the dresser, although he had to stretch on tiptoes to reach it - really, it made no sense at all for anyone to grow as large as Beorn! - and carried it over to the table. The moment he arrived, the noise died down - though it did not cease completely - and Bilbo found himself the object of ten curious gazes.

"You know, you don't all have to keep staring all the time," he said, feeling rather irritable. "Haven't you got anything better to look at?"

"Are Fili and Thorin coming in?" Balin asked.

"They're feeling... unsociable," Bilbo said. As for Gandalf, who knew where he had wandered off to? "Now, if you'll excuse me, I-"

"Mr. Baggins, is it true Kili doesn't remember anything at all?" Ori interrupted him.

"No, I'm afraid he does not," said Bilbo somewhat snappishly.

Ori glanced over in Kili's direction, looking quite concerned. "Maybe he'll remember me?" he said. "We're friends. I mean, we were."

"Now, Ori lad," murmured Balin, but Bilbo sighed and felt rather shamefaced about his earlier outburst.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't think he will." Not to mention you'd have to persuade him you weren't going to kill him, first, and I expect there's no word for 'friend' in Black Speech anyway.

Ori hung his head a little, and then Bilbo felt a tug at his sleeve. He turned to see Bifur looking at him.

"Er," Bilbo said. He never really knew what to say to Bifur, for he could speak neither the dwarvish tongue nor the sign language he used. But Bifur did not speak, merely took a slice of bread and honey from his own plate and placed it on Bilbo's tray, nodding his head and patting Bilbo's arm.

There was a moment's pause, then Bofur said, "Aye, me too," and placed his bowl of soup on the tray.

There was a general murmur, and food began to appear from all directions. Bilbo rather quickly began to worry that he wouldn't have the strength to carry the tray back to Kili, for the dwarves seemed to be choosing the largest portions of everything and stacking them up with little heed for ease of transport. He staggered around the table, barely able to see over the tottering pile of bread, soup, cakes and cream, and almost ran straight into Dwalin, who had risen to his feet again and now wedged two steaming cups into the corners of the tray, and none too gently, either. Bilbo squeaked and tried to balance so that the jug of cream didn't fall off the slice of seed cake, and Dwalin surveyed the tray and growled.

"Meat would be better," he said. "Lad's just skin and bones."

Balin cleared his throat and jerked his head in the direction of Beorn, who was seated in a corner reading and doing an excellent job of ignoring the dwarves. Dwalin grumbled but subsided.

"I'll take it to him, shall I?" he said, reaching for the tray.

"No, I-" Bilbo took a step back and the stack of food wobbled for a perilous moment. Dwalin raised an eyebrow and grabbed the tray, pulling it out of Bilbo's grasp before he could object.

"Mr. Dwalin," Bilbo said, but Dwalin was already halfway across the room, and Bilbo scurried after him. Drat it all, why could not dwarves ever do as they were told?

But it seemed Dwalin had been listening, after all, for he stopped a good few paces away from Kili and set the tray carefully on the ground, then sank down himself, sitting cross-legged with his hands on his knees. Kili did not acknowledge him, but Dwalin did not seem to mind.

"My name is Dwalin," he said, and though his voice was still deep and grumbling, all the edges seemed smoothed away. "I know you, laddie, and you know me."

Kili did not look up, but his eyes had crept from the floor to the tray of food, and now he stared at it without blinking.

"Aye, well," Dwalin said after a long moment of silence, "if ever you need me, you've only to call." And he unfolded himself from the floor, gave Bilbo a nod, and went back to the table.

Bilbo watched him go, and he waited until the noise of eating and talking had risen back to reasonable levels before he carefully shoved the tray of food closer to Kili.

"They would all like to meet you, you know," he said, setting the various plates and bowls out. He picked up one of the steaming cups. "Now, look here," he said, and when he was sure he had Kili's attention, he blew carefully on the tea. "See?" he said. "Hot."

Kili frowned and picked up the other mug, mirroring his actions. It was such a simple thing to be teaching him that Bilbo could almost forget what he had said outside, the things that they had learned. He could almost imagine once again that Kili was a blank slate, ready to be written on by whoever knew the right words.

Almost.

And then again, there was something else, too. Bilbo saw it when Kili was shovelling food into his mouth without looking at it, keeping his eyes always on the table full of dwarves. Something that sent a shiver along Bilbo's spine, something that he had seen before, that first day and night out in the wildlands, when he had looked into Kili's dark eyes and feared to be murdered in his sleep. He had long since dismissed it as his own fevered imagination - for the little dwarf was surely more harmless even than Bilbo, not to be feared but only pitied - but now, after listening to him speak as an orc, even think as an orc, Bilbo was not so sure he had been right to do so.

"You are a strange creature," he murmured to himself. Kili, apparently in the process of trying to swallow an apple whole, tore his attention away from the other dwarves and gave Bilbo a questioning look.

"Never mind," Bilbo said. "Never mind."

By the time Bilbo actually got around to eating something, there was hardly anything left on the tray but crumbs and a small lake of spilled soup. Even the apple core was gone, Kili apparently happy to eat anything and everything that he could chew. To make matters worse, once Bilbo made it back to the table he realised he had managed to misplace the bread knife in his distraction, and he had to beg Beorn for another one. All in all, the dwarves were laying out their bedrolls by the time he finally got some food in his stomach, and the soup was very definitely cold.

Bilbo made the best of it, sitting at the abandoned table and making his way through the leftovers. When he was almost finished, Balin slipped in through the door, an empty tray of his own in his hands. He shared a look with Dwalin, murmuring something in the dwarven tongue and shaking his head sadly. Bilbo looked down at his plate and hoped the weather did not turn too chill overnight.

He was making his way back through the maze of bedrolls when Bofur caught his attention with a wave.

"Me and the lads, we were talking," he said, "and we thought, since young Kili doesn't have anything to sleep on, well." He held out a warm-looking woollen blanket.

"Oh," Bilbo said, "very kind. Thank you." He took the blanket from Bofur, wondering when he had become officially in charge of Kili in the company's eyes. He was turning to go when Bombur suddenly appeared from behind his brother, holding out an enormous flannel undershirt.

"It's not a blanket," he said, "but it'll do in a pinch."

"Yes," Bilbo said, and held out his arms for the undershirt, "if you don't need it, then certainly-"

"I've got a lovely jumper I'm not using!" Ori said, popping up out of nowhere and proffering said jumper, which Bilbo would have described more as hideous than lovely, and Bilbo realised he would not be permitted to leave until he had been thoroughly buried under a pile of furs, blankets and anything and everything warm that the dwarves could find in their packs. Finally, when his arms ached and he could no longer see over the pile of assorted clothing, Bofur slapped him on the shoulder.

"You're a good lad, Bilbo," he said, and Bilbo managed not to glare.

He staggered back over to Kili and set to constructing an odd sort of bed on the floor. By the time he had used all the clothes and blankets he'd been given, it looked more like a nest than anything simple and dwarvish, but it would have to do, he supposed. He looked up at Kili, who was watching him with some interest, and gestured at it.

"Right," he said. "Bed."

Kili looked at the bed and then back at Bilbo.

"Sleep," said Bilbo. "You know." He closed his eyes and laid his head on his hands like they were a pillow. "Sleep."

Kili mouthed the word, then nodded, nestling himself further back into the corner. Bilbo frowned.

"No," he said, pointing again at the bed, "you're supposed to sleep here."

Kili eyed the bed again, but he made no move towards it. Bilbo gave an exasperated sigh. It had truly been a long day, and he had reached the point of exhaustion where he was constantly on the verge of shouting and stamping his feet like a child. "Kili," he said, more sharply than perhaps was warranted, and reached over to tug the little dwarf to the bed. He manhandled him until he was lying down, wrapped in blankets, and Kili did not struggle, but simply let himself be manoeuvred into position.

"There," said Bilbo. "Now go to sleep." And he threw himself down on his own bedroll and determinedly closed his eyes.

Sleep, though, was long in coming, despite the fact that every part of Bilbo's body ached for it. The sound of the rest of the company snoring and mumbling was something he'd grown used to over the past weeks and months, had come even to look forward to, for it meant that they were safe. But now every whistling sigh or snort grated across his nerves, and he tossed and turned and finally opened his eyes in frustration, only to see that Kili's bed, just inches from his own, was empty.

Bilbo sat up, heart thundering. But his worry was short-lived, for Kili had not gone far - he sat once again in his corner, his back to the wall, head nodding on his chest. Bilbo blinked at him, and then remembered him sleeping with his back to a tree, and nodding sitting up by the fire. Bilbo knew that orcs slept lying down, for he had seen more sleeping orcs than he had a care to, but their prisoners - well, all Bilbo knew of orc prisoners was the one sitting before him now, and he certainly seemed to be determined to sit up if he could.

Bilbo sighed and disentangled himself from his blanket. He picked up the first item from Kili's bed that came to hand - Ori's ugly jumper, as it happened - and draped it over Kili's chest. Kili started at the touch, his eyes flying open and his hands coming up to defend himself, but Bilbo stroked his arm soothingly.

"Just me," he said. "Nothing to be scared of."

Kili frowned at him, and Bilbo picked up a blanket - Oin's, he thought - and wrapped it around him. Then he laid Bombur's undershirt over the top. Another blanket and two jackets, and Kili started to slowly disappear under the layers of clothes. By the time Bilbo was done, he was little more than a face blinking confusedly out of a cocoon of wool and fur.

"Well," Bilbo said, sitting back on his heels, "at least you won't get cold."

And he went back to his bedroll and slept the sleep of the dead.

When Bilbo next opened his eyes, the fire had burned down to embers and the sky was grey outside the windows. He burrowed back into his blankets and closed his eyes again, but sleep had well and truly deserted him, and eventually he was forced to give up on it and sit up. He was reminded of the last time he had woken in Beorn's house - it had been almost dawn then, too, and Bilbo had watched Fili creep out of the door and had followed him. If he had not done so, perhaps all of this mess could have been avoided.

If he had not done so, Fili would have been killed on the first day and Kili would still be a prisoner of the orcs.

Bilbo rubbed his eyes and swallowed a yawn, then glanced around. The dwarves were all still asleep, some of them snoring with rather disgusting enthusiasm. Fili had come in some time during the night, and slept restlessly a few paces away from Bilbo, one arm flung out towards his brother. Even closed, his eyes looked red-raw, and his face was shadowed with trouble. Of Thorin there was no sign.

Getting to his feet, Bilbo turned to see that he was not the only one awake, after all. Kili was watching him from his corner, his face alert enough that he had probably woken some time ago. He had thrown off some of the furs and blankets during the night, and now sat ringed with dwarven detritus. Bilbo managed a smile and sat down next to him rather heavily - or as heavily as a hobbit can sit down, anyway.

"I really thought that Gandalf would be able to solve everything," he said. "I don't know why." Except that Gandalf always seemed to have the solution. Gandalf had saved them from the trolls, Gandalf had led them to Rivendell, Gandalf had brought the dwarves to Bilbo's door in the first place. If Gandalf couldn't help Kili, then how was anyone else to have a chance?

Kili regarded him for a moment, then turned his eyes to the room at large. He pointed at Bofur, who slept halfway across the invisible line, little visible of him under his hat but moustache.

"Dwarf," he said quietly.

Bilbo frowned. "Yes," he said, and nodded. He had thought they had already been through this.

"Yes," Kili repeated immediately. "Yes."

Bilbo felt a small smile creep its way onto his face. "Very good," he said.

Kili made a gesture then which seemed to encompass all the sleeping dwarves. "Dwarf?" he said, and turned to look at Bilbo.

"Dwarves," Bilbo said, and held up a finger. "One dwarf." He held up a second finger. "Two dwarves."

"Dwarfs," Kili said. "Yes."

Despite himself, Bilbo found himself chuckling. "Yes, they are dwarves," he said.

"Therr dwarfs," Kili muttered, as if to himself, and then pointed at Bilbo. "Therr dwarf?" he said.

Bilbo frowned at him. "I'm a hobbit," he said.

Kili cocked his head on one side. "Mahobbit," he said.

"No, hobbit," Bilbo said, starting to feel a little frustrated. Surely it was obvious he was not a dwarf? "Hobbit."

"Hobbit," Kili said. He stared at Bilbo thoughtfully.

"Yes," Bilbo said, and pointed at himself. "I'm a hobbit." He pointed at Kili. "You're a dwarf."

Kili seemed to think about this, then laid his palm on his own chest. "Yurr dwarf," he said, and then pointed at Bilbo. "I'm hobbit."

Bilbo took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was going to be another long day.

Verbs were tricky creatures, Bilbo reflected. He had a vague memory of his schooling many years ago in the Shire, and he had always rather prided himself on his facility with language. Still, it took him an embarrassingly long time to explain to Kili the difference between am and are, and how you and I fitted together with them. It seemed as though Black Speech had no way of saying any of these things, and Bilbo started to wonder if there were any words in that language at all, or if it was just a series of guttural sounds which all meant murder and filth. Gandalf would have been the obvious person to explain, of course, but he was nowhere to be found (as usual), and Bilbo was loath to leave the task half-done. So it was that dawn found them seated still in the corner, with Bilbo repeating I am a dwarf. You are a dwarf. He is a dwarf. and Kili following along and seeming as though he mostly understood.

It wasn't until Kili pointed at him and said no you are dwarf that Bilbo realised again how odd it was that they were having this conversation at all.

"Can't you tell?" he said to Kili. "Look at me! I am far too short to be a dwarf, for one thing."

Kili gave him a blank look, and Bilbo tried a different tack. "Look," he said, and tucked his hair behind his ears, pointing at them. "Hobbit ears." He pointed at Kili's own ears. "Dwarf ears."

Kili's hands went to his ears, and ran his fingers along them as if he had never thought about them before and did not really know what they looked like. And then, of course, it all became obvious to Bilbo.

"Well," he breathed, "well I never." He pointed at Kili. "Stay there a moment," he said, and jumped to his feet.

He found what he was looking for by the high basin where Beorn washed his hands, and, after some effort and a really rather hazardous climb up the legs of the basin-stand, he managed to get it down. He hurried back to Kili's side and handed him the silvery glass, turning it over impatiently in his hands when Kili tried to look into the wrong side.

"Look," he said. "It's you."

Kili peered into the mirror, reached out to touch its surface, and then stopped, startled. He frowned, moving his hand cautiously, and when the image in the mirror moved its hand, too, his eyes grew round. Bilbo came and stood behind him, waving at himself in the mirror. Kili just stared, his hand going to his chin, feeling along it. Bilbo didn't know whether to smile or weep, for the astounded look on Kili's face was certainly comical, but the reasons behind it - well, Bilbo had had quite enough of thinking about the reasons behind everything, in truth, for all that ever brought was heartache, and so he abandoned that line of thought and chuckled, then pointed.

"Look," he said firmly. "Dwarf ears."

Kili glanced at him, then turned the mirror so he could see his left ear more clearly. He pushed his hair out of the way and ran his fingertips along it. He turned, peering at Bilbo's ears, and then laid the mirror down and crawled over to where his brother lay sleeping, hovering over him as he inspected the ear that stuck out through his braids. Then he crawled back to Bilbo and frowned into the mirror again.

"Khozd shrakhun dwarf," he said.

Bilbo glanced around quickly, but Beorn was nowhere to be seen. "No," he said, keeping his voice very low. "Not shrakhun. Khozd." He pointed at Kili. "Dwarf."

He watched as Kili seemed to think about this. How was it possible that the little creature didn't even seem to understand what a dwarf was? He had been called by that ugly name for years - had he somehow never known what it meant?

And then again, when Bilbo thought about it, it made a certain deal of sense. There had been dwarves in the Misty Mountains many years ago, he knew, and in Erebor, of course. But they were all gone, now, and those that remained up in the Iron Hills kept to themselves and rarely ventured this far south. Was it possible, Bilbo wondered, for Kili to have been dragged around the wildlands for twenty-five years and never to have seen another dwarf?

Kili set the mirror down and stared hard at Bilbo. "I'm dwarf," he said. "Yes?"

"Yes," said Bilbo.

One step at a time.

Dwarves were not particularly good at hiding. They were too broad and heavy, and seemed to neither notice nor care about the amount of noise they made as they trampled through underbrush. Perhaps it was because they were raised underground, Bilbo pondered, where there was no underbrush to be troubled by. Perhaps a dwarf in a mine was as quiet as a hobbit in the forest.

No, he decided. That didn't seem very likely.

All the same, it took him at least ten minutes to locate Thorin, and he was beginning to worry that the dwarf had done something ridiculous like run off to the wildlands to kill every orc he could find - after all, these things often ran in families - when he finally spied a brooding figure in the far corner of one of Beorn's bee-orchards, dark against the sunny greenery as if the very sunlight could not brighten him. Honestly, Bilbo thought, if he ever again got to spend a whole day without dealing with grumpy dwarves, he would most certainly throw some sort of party.

He sat down next to Thorin with a thump, paying no attention to his own dignity and hoping thus to puncture a little of Thorin's.

"Lovely morning, isn't it?" he said, and held out the plate that he carried.

Thorin ignored him. Bilbo waggled the plate in front of him, and Thorin gave a great sigh.

"I am not hungry," he said.

"Come, now," Bilbo replied. "When was the last time you ate?"

Thorin shot him a look, then, full of thunder. "Some of us think of things other than our stomachs, master burglar," he said.

Bilbo set the plate down between them. "Well, some of us realise that if we don't think of our stomachs occasionally, we will waste away and die, and then what use will we be to anyone?" he snapped.

"You would do well to mind your tone, Bilbo Baggins," Thorin said then, and Bilbo, who had quite forgotten in his irritation just who he was talking to, found himself feeling rather as though someone had crushed him like an ant. He looked down at his feet, swinging above the grass.

"All right," he said. "All right, I will mind my tone. But none of this is doing anyone any good, Thorin." He kept his eyes fixed on his feet, for he could feel Thorin's scowl burning a hole in him, and he knew if he looked up he would lose his nerve. "It is no use for you to be so angry all the time."

"And what would you have me do instead?" Thorin asked. "Would you have me weep? Would you have me tear my beard and scar my arms in shame?"

Bilbo did look up then. "Shame?" he said. "But you have done nothing wrong!"

"You are right in one thing," Thorin said. "I have done nothing. I have done nothing for twenty-five years, and now it is too late and there is nothing to be done."

"Thorin, no." Bilbo found himself wringing his hands. "There is no blame to be laid here."

"Oh, there is blame," Thorin said. "There is blame, master hobbit, and all know on whose head it falls."

Bilbo shook his head. "The orcs-"

"Do not speak to me of orcs!" Thorin cried, rising to his feet and glowering at Bilbo with force enough to make him almost fall from the bench. But then his shoulders dropped, and he turned away. "In fact," he said, "it would be better if you did not speak to me at all."

Bilbo opened and closed his mouth, but he could think of no words, and so he slipped abruptly from the bench.

"You should eat," he said, gesturing weakly at the food he had brought. "Keep your strength up."

Thorin did not look at him, and after a moment's silence, Bilbo crept quietly away.

Inside the hall, all was bustle and cheer as the dwarves prepared breakfast for themselves. Beorn was nowhere to be seen - perhaps he was with Gandalf, for the two of them seemed to be absent far more often than they were present - but that did not prevent the company from providing themselves with food and drink. If anything, it made them merrier and less ill at ease.

Kili still sat in his corner, but Fili was now awake, sitting on his bedroll and staring into space. He did not join in the activities of his kinsmen, nor seem even to notice when they tossed good-natured comments his way. Bilbo found that some blessed soul had made a great pot of tea, and he poured two cups and brought them over to Fili. It seemed that he was always ferrying food and drink to miserable dwarves these days, but offering food was something Bilbo felt quite comfortable with, and indeed it made him feel almost at home.

"Good morning," he said, standing by Fili and holding out one of the cups.

Fili did not respond. He looked as though he had been wrung out to dry, deep shadows under his bloodshot eyes, and he stared into the middle distance, his mouth set in a hard line.

"Fili," Bilbo said, and when there was still no answer, he nudged the young dwarf with his foot.

Fili started and looked up at him. "Oh," he said, "hello." He took the cup from Bilbo's hands, and Bilbo sat down next to him.

"I don't suppose you know where Gandalf has gone?" he asked.

Fili didn't reply, and after a moment, Bilbo turned to look at him. He was gazing vaguely at a nearby stool, both hands wrapped around his cup, and gave no sign that he had heard Bilbo's question.

"Fili?" said Bilbo. "Are you all right?" He put a hand on Fili's arm, and Fili blinked.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Were you talking to me?"

Bilbo frowned at him. "I asked if you know where Gandalf is," he said.

Fili just stared at him a moment, then shook his head. "What?" he asked, as though Bilbo had said something nonsensical. Bilbo felt his heart twist a little within him.

"It doesn't matter," he said, and Fili went back to staring at nothing. Bilbo sat for a little longer, but there was something suffocating about being inside, even in such a large hall, as though the air itself were too thick. He rose to his feet.

"I'll just leave you to it, then, shall I?" he said to Fili, and when Fili made no acknowledgement, he sighed and made for the door. At least there would be air outside.

Bilbo found himself wandering the greensward within Beorn's great fence, staying well away from the orchard where he knew Thorin still sat and brooded. Even with that constraint, there was a great deal of space and air and sunlight, and no threat of orcs nor yet of any dangerous thing, save perhaps the bees and of course Thorin himself. Eventually, he found himself a sunny spot beneath an apple tree and settled there to drink his tea and smoke a pipe, out of sight or sound of anyone who could damage his fragile peace.

At least until Gandalf arrived.

"Good morning," the old wizard said, towering over Bilbo and casting a shadow across him. Bilbo stared up at him and sighed.

"Not really," he said, remembering just such a sunny morning many days ago outside his own cosy home. He should have sent the wizard packing then. (Except he had, and look how much good that had done.)

Gandalf lowered himself to sit beside Bilbo and put a large hand on his shoulder. "I am sorry to hear that," he said. "How is Kili?"

Bilbo snorted into his pipe. "Kili barely even knows he is a dwarf," he said. "Thorin speaks nothing but rage and Fili does not speak at all." He put his cup down and lowered his head into his hands. "This is all such a terrible mess, Gandalf. Can you not do something?"

Gandalf's hand gripped him tightly. "I cannot go back and change what happened, if that's what you mean," he said.

"No, of course not," Bilbo said, and then peeked up at Gandalf from between his fingers. "You definitely can't do that?"

Gandalf smiled sadly at him, and Bilbo sat up. "But maybe you can help Thorin," he said. "He is so angry. He listens to you. Well, more than he does to me, anyway."

"And what would you replace his anger with?" Gandalf asked.

Bilbo frowned. "I don't understand."

"Even if I were able to take Thorin's anger away, what do you think would be left to him then?" Gandalf said. "This dwarf who abandoned his sister's child to the tender mercies of the orcs for so many years."

"Oh, no, this is ridiculous," Bilbo said. "That wasn't his fault! He didn't know, he couldn't have known."

"And do you think that that will absolve him in his own mind?" Gandalf asked.

Bilbo stared at the ground. No, he thought. No, of course it wouldn't, for dwarves were stubborn in all things, and Thorin the most stubborn of them all.

"No, my dear Bilbo," Gandalf said, "I think we must let Thorin have his anger. I fear it is the only thing that keeps him drawing breath."

"And what about Kili?" said Bilbo. "Who's going to look after him while his uncle rages at the world?"

"Ah," Gandalf said, and then said nothing more until Bilbo turned to see him looking rather expectant.

"No," Bilbo said. "Gandalf, don't look at me that way."

"It is a heavy burden," Gandalf said, "and you have carried it far further than anyone could have asked or expected. If you wish to lay it down, then no-one will blame you."

Bilbo closed his eyes. "I'm not even kin," he said. "I'm a stranger to him."

"Perhaps," Gandalf said. "And perhaps you know him better than anyone who now walks this earth."

Bilbo did not reply, and Gandalf did not press him. He could feel the sun warm on his skin, hear the merry tweeting of the birds and buzzing of the bees. He could stay here, or demand the eagles take him back over the mountains, or find a way back on his own, and leave these wretched dwarves to their gold and their dragon and their endless misery.

No. No, he could not.

He opened his eyes and straightened his back. "It is not my burden," he said, and Gandalf's face grew tired and sad. But Bilbo had not yet finished. "It is not my burden, but if there is no-one else to carry it, then I will do so."

Gandalf smiled down at him. "Do you know, my dear Bilbo," he said, "I do believe hobbits will never cease to surprise me."

The day was long and warm and sunny, and the dwarves took advantage of it just as Bilbo did, spreading themselves out on the grass, mending clothes and gear and singing songs to each other. Bilbo kept himself apart from them for most of the morning, still feeling irritable and put-upon, but once breakfast had passed and there had been - glory of glories - a second breakfast, and elevenses, and lunch as well, he began to feel a little more cheerful. Even Fili was outside now, dragged out by Bofur and Bombur to sit in the sun, although the warmth and light seemed to do little to dispel the gloom he had sunk into. In the orchard, Thorin was having a heated conversation in the dwarvish tongue with Balin and Dwalin, and everything felt almost normal.

So it was that Bilbo decided that Kili had spent enough time languishing indoors, and towards mid afternoon he plunged back into the darkness of the hall, where the little dwarf now sat alone, and tugged on his arm until he followed. Bilbo took them to some of the less crowded parts of Beorn's gardens and orchards - and as far away from Thorin as possible - and began to point out things and name them. Trees, flowers, bees - some of them Kili seemed never to have seen before, or not to be able to tell apart, and Bilbo held up leaves and pointed at them and tried to explain, and Kili watched him and perhaps understood and most probably neither knew nor cared what Bilbo was talking about.

They were walking along a broad stretch of grass, and Bilbo was talking about the difference between celandines and buttercups, when Kili suddenly came to a dead halt and dropped his head, and Bilbo looked up to see Ori standing before them.

"Hello, Mr. Baggins!" Ori said, and then, a little more nervously, "Hello, Kili."

"Oh," Bilbo said. "Yes, hello there."

Ori smiled at Kili. "I'm so happy you're back," he said. "We all thought you were dead! Though I suppose you already know that."

Kili did not move or speak, and Ori's smile took on an air of unease. "It was really horrible," he said, and then glanced worriedly at Bilbo.

"I'm not sure-" Bilbo started, but then Ori took a step forward and reached out as if to embrace Kili, and Kili took three steps back and gave a quiet but audible growl. Ori stood frozen, hands grasping empty air, and Bilbo smiled sadly at him and patted him on the shoulder.

"Don't worry," he said. "He does that to everyone."

"Ori!" Dori came hurrying up, grabbing his brother by the arm. "Don't worrit the poor lad, didn't Thorin tell you?"

"I just thought-" Ori said, but whatever it was he had thought was lost in Dori's gentle fussing, and moments later he was being led away. He looked back over his shoulder at Kili, still staring determinedly at the ground, and waved forlornly.

"Bye, then," he called.

When the two of them were out of earshot, Bilbo sighed and pattered over to the little dwarf.

"He was only trying to be nice," he said. "He's your friend, you know. He won't hurt you."

Kili didn't respond. Bilbo tried to remember what Gandalf had said the previous night. Something with a v. Nar something. He glanced around to check that Beorn was not lurking in the hydrangeas, and then said, "Nar vas- Nar vasu-"

If Bilbo had wanted to attract Kili's attention, he had certainly gone about it the right way. The little dwarf was suddenly staring at him intently. "Nar vrasubatizish," he said, and Bilbo nodded.

"Right," he said. "Nar vrasu-, er, -subtish."

Kili raised his eyebrows. Bilbo felt rather wrong-footed, to find himself on the other side of the language problem.

"Listen," he said. "Vrasuburumtish is kill. Kill."

"Kili," said Kili, sounding rather doubtful. Bilbo shook his head.

"No, kill," he said, trying to make the ending as clear as possible.

"Kill," Kili repeated. "Vras - kill."

"Yes!" said Bilbo.

"Yes," said Kili.

"So." Bilbo pointed after Ori and spoke very slowly. "Ori - will - not - kill - you." Honestly, the very idea of Ori even getting up the nerve to even pinch Kili's cheeks was somewhat ridiculous, and Bilbo felt absurd, but if this was how orcs understood things, then it would have to do.

Kili looked thoughtfully in the direction Bilbo was pointing. "No kill," he said. "Yes."

"Exactly," said Bilbo. "No kill." He shook his head in frustration. "He's your friend," he said, although he knew he might as well tell Kili that Ori was a mermaid, for all the meaning it would have to him.

"No kill," Kili said, looking back at Bilbo. "Yes?"

Bilbo sighed. "Yes," he said.

It would have to be enough.

Towards evening, the dwarves drifted inside, and Bilbo drifted with them, shivering a little as the air began to turn chill. Balin and Thorin were still arguing over something - had they been at it all afternoon, Bilbo wondered, and decided they probably had - but they were speaking in low voices now and glanced often at Fili. Bilbo felt a slight lightening in his chest. At least someone other than Bilbo was paying attention to the poor lad.

He waited until there was a lull in the argument, then hastened over to Thorin, catching him just as he turned with a roll of parchment in his hand.

"Thorin," he said. "I just wanted to tell you something."

Thorin scowled down at him. "Yes?" he said.

"That, er." Bilbo swallowed, and then spoke as fast as he could. "That it's not too late. I know you think it is, but it isn't." If only he could get Thorin to see that there were things he could do to help, truly help, perhaps they begin to repair some of the damage that had been done. The damage that was still being done.

Thorin's expression did not change. Bilbo nodded and gave an absurd little bow.

"Well, that was all, anyway," he said, and retreated as fast as he could without losing every shred of his dignity.

Thorin stood a moment as if in thought, and then strode to the table, slamming the parchment he held down onto it.

"Dwarves," Balin cried, and all the dwarves hastily gathered around the table. Even Fili was roused from his daze by Dwalin and took his place at the opposite end from his uncle. Bilbo squeezed in between Ori and Gloin and glanced back at Kili, who watched them all from his corner.

"We have tarried longer than ever we planned, and have taken too much advantage of our friend's hospitality," Thorin began. A murmur ran through the assembled dwarves, and Bilbo's heart began to beat a little faster. Surely he could not be thinking-?

Thorin unrolled the parchment and Bilbo saw it was the map that had led them thus far. A new image had been added to it - a little house between the Misty Mountains and Mirkwood, and it was to this house that Thorin pointed.

"We are here," he said, and then his finger traced a line through Mirkwood and across the Long Lake to the Lonely Mountain,"and we have many days' travel ahead. Durin's Day will not wait for us."

Bilbo drew in a breath, for he knew, then, what Thorin was going to say, and he knew that everything had just become even more difficult.

Thorin drew himself up and addressed the company, though he looked only at Fili.

"Tomorrow, we ride for Erebor," he said.