"Kíli!" Fíli called, voice getting more frightened as he struggled to rouse his brother. "Wake up! You've got to wake up now!"
Bilbo stepped in closer, putting a gentle hand on Kíli's shoulder to shake him, and he sat up quickly with a sharp gasp, eyes wide but unfocused. "Kíli, lad, what's wrong?" Bilbo asked quietly. He glanced around the square, but was relieved to see that they were still alone. "Are you ill?"
Kíli blinked a few times, looking hazy. "Where's Thorin?" he asked, sounding like a lost child.
"He'll be back in a few moments," Fíli assured him. He had pushed himself upright, now hovering over his brother with something like panic in his eyes. "Kíli, what've you done?"
The sharp worry in Fíli's voice seemed to rouse Kíli from his stupor, and he shook his head wearily. "Nothing. Just tired, that's all."
"Don't lie to me," Fíli whispered, eyes narrowing. "You've been off for days now, ever since the fight. I thought it was strange, but everything has been so wrong recently that I just figured-" he broke off, shaking his head sharply enough to send his hair flying. "Please don't lie."
Kíli looked down, clearly ashamed. "I didn't do anything," he murmured, voice raw with exhaustion and something else Bilbo couldn't place. "I got a little injury in the fight, that's all, and it's been giving me a bit of trouble."
Warning bells went off in Bilbo's head, especially when Kíli wouldn't look at either of them. "What happened?"
"I grabbed one of Fíli's knives to go help, but then I caught the wrong end of one of their clubs and went down, and he saw the blade," Kíli mumbled. "Ended up stuck on my own knife." He gestured vaguely to his shoulder, and Bilbo remembered the blood there after the battle, the way he flinched when someone touched him.
"How could you be so stupid?" Fíli asked, but there was no anger in it - just compassion and sorrow. "Hiding an injury, not taking care of it - that's exactly what Thorin's always warned us not to do!"
"I didn't!" Kíli protested, head coming up, dark eyes blazing. "I may not have mentioned it, but I took care of it! I know basic first aid, Fíli." His hand went to his shoulder absently, but hovered above the surface like he was afraid to touch. "I cleaned it, dressed it, stopped the bleeding. I thought it would be fine, and then you were down and not waking up half the time, and I didn't even think about anything else." His voice trailed off and he looked more than a little lost. The fading sun of the afternoon illuminated his face, and Fíli groaned a little, tangling his fingers in his hair in frustration.
"How bad is it?" It was little more than a whisper, but Kíli shook his head quickly.
"It's not. I'm fine, really! It's just a bit sore - but what do you expect?" He gave an awkward laugh.
"You're running a fever," Bilbo pointed out, and Kíli gave him a quick glare.
"I'll take some paracetamol."
"You were practically passed out on my shoulder!" Fíli hissed.
"I'm tired!" Kíli retorted. "It's not like I slept last night, is it?" He grabbed his pack, rustling through it for the bottle of medicine, and swallowed a few tablets dry. "There. Are you happy?"
"Yeah, sure. Ecstatic!" Fíli muttered. Bilbo looked from one to the other, both faces set in equal masks of stubborn unhappiness.
"But - what are we going to do?" he asked, forehead wrinkling in concern. "You've got to have it seen to!"
"Can't," Fíli muttered, rubbing at his head. "It's not like we can just wander into the nearest A&E and tell them 'hello, we're wanted criminals, could you just see to my brother's shoulder?'"
"So we just let him get more ill?" Bilbo asked, temper rising at the thought of not being able to do anything.
"We leave it alone and wait for it to get better," Kíli insisted. "It's not like we've never been hurt before, Mr. Baggins."
Bilbo threw up his hands and stared at the darkening sky, asking for patience. "You've been stabbed and let it get infected before?"
"Haven't tried that yet," Fíli said, clearly trying to keep the tone light. He reached out a hesitant hand to Kíli's uninjured shoulder and squeezed tight, and Kíli shut his eyes a little, leaning back against Fíli in gratitude. "But we're telling uncle Thorin as soon as he gets back, little brother." There was no hesitation in his tone now, and he didn't relent when Kíli groaned in dismay.
They sat in awkward silence for a while, and Bilbo tried pacing, then sitting still, but he couldn't help but bounce his knee and fiddle with his fingers, left entirely at sixes and sevens by the entire situation. The sun set, and the temperature began to fall, the foot-traffic picking up even in their quiet little square. Bilbo tried his best not to look guilty and suspicious, but it seemed as though everyone who passed was looking at them warily, probably getting ready to call the authorities at any moment. The lads sat still, both calm and composed despite their dire situation.
Thorin appeared as if from nowhere, sweeping them up into his wake with a few grunted words, and they were following him into the lights of the more public areas of the town without hesitation.
"Dwalin's found Balin and Oin, and I was able to collect Bofur and Bifur," he rumbled. "We're heading for the vaults now; the rest will join us, but we can't look like we're together. Don't speak to them, don't act like we're a group," he instructed them quickly. Bilbo nodded agreement, but Thorin's forehead grew lined with frustration when he looked around and saw that Fíli and Kíli were trailing behind. "Are we having a problem, boys?"
"No," Kíli said firmly, moving to catch up.
"Yes," Fíli insisted, trailing him closely. Kíli stomped on his foot, and Fíli gave a growl of annoyance and shoved Kíli off his bruised appendage. "Kíli's got an injury that's not doing well, uncle."
Thorin spun on them, walking backward, and Bilbo had to nod in apology to a young couple he almost trod upon in the street as they moved into the crowds of Prince's Street. "What?"
"It's nothing," Kíli said, shooting a dark glare at his brother.
"Fíli?" Thorin asked, ignoring his protest.
Fíli glanced around them, clearly mindful of the crowd, and then raised both hands and flickered his fingers quickly in signs that Bilbo didn't recognise. They certainly weren't standard BSL. Thorin clearly did understand, though, because his face went dark and closed-off, like a shutter had fallen over his eyes.
"And you didn't feel it necessary to mention this?" he asked Kíli, ignoring the murmurs of startled pedestrians who had to dodge the large man walking backward. Bilbo darted forward and grabbed his arm, trying to turn him around.
"Please can you just face forward while you shout at them?" he asked sharply. Thorin glowered at him, but began walking in a more conventional way, though he reached out to haul Kíli close to him by one arm. They carried on a brief but intense conversation in whispers and signs, Fíli drawing close on his other side to add to the discourse where he could, and Bilbo followed along like a little duckling a few feet behind them, mindful of Thorin's warning not to look like a group traveling together. He nearly started out of his skin when Balin appeared beside him as if from thin air, shaking his white head.
"He's done it now, has he?" The old man looked mournful, tugging fitfully at his long beard. "We should have seen it after the battle."
"How do you know what's going on?" Bilbo asked fretfully, looking around quickly and wondering how many more of them were walking within earshot that he could not see.
"The signs," Balin said, holding his hands up in demonstration. "We had to find ways to communicate when we cannot speak. There aren't that many words, but enough to get the message through."
Bofur and Bifur drifted up on Bilbo's other side, keeping enough of a distance to not be an obvious part of the group, but Bofur sighed heavily, his face unusually sad. "Poor lad," he murmured. "We should have raised him to be less skilled a liar and more skilled a healer, I think."
Bifur's hands and fingers flew in the same sorts of signs that Bilbo had seen the others use, but Bofur just nodded silently and clapped his cousin on the back.
"Where have you all been?" Bilbo hissed. Balin chuckled.
"Here and there, lad. Staying out of trouble, which is more than we can say for you!"
Bilbo glanced behind them as they left the crowds on Prince's Street, crossing over the Mound. The sky was dark now, with a crescent moon rising into the air above the towering edifice of the Old Town, and the castle up on the rock looked menacing despite the friendly lighting. Ahead, Thorin was still talking intently with his nephews, and Bilbo winced in sympathy as Kíli nearly took a tumble, foot catching on a loose stone he hadn't seen as he looked up at his uncle. Behind them, a sudden looming silence made Bilbo glance over his shoulder, to see that Oin and Dwalin had taken up the tail of their procession and were watching all directions, guarding their rear.
"Hear you've had a bit of an adventure," Oin said loudly, giving Bilbo a grin and a hearty wink. He was immediately hushed by the others, and shook his head sadly, gesturing to his weak ears in explanation. Bilbo's own ears burned at the idea that all of the company had somehow learned of his unexpected adventure already. Did they all blame him for making their former hiding places unsafe, he wondered, eyeing the tips of his boots with some ire. He hadn't asked for any of this.
They continued in near-silence, Thorin leading them through dark streets and closes, keeping them out of the light wherever possible. Bilbo hadn't been down these streets in years, and he struggled to remember some of the names, but he knew where Thorin was leading them. They crossed the High Street quickly, following the curves of the roads down away from the bright lights and cheerful noises of the clubs, and crept onto the Cowgate.
The South Bridge vaults were mostly tourist traps now, filled with underground clubs and the fake-spookiness created for walking tours, but Thorin ducked past all of those, leading them into the quieter parts that were not so well known. Here there was little light, and littler sense of safety, and Bilbo let himself walk a little closer to the comfortingly frightening bulk of Dwalin and Oin. Ahead, Thorin turned away to look back at them, clearly counting his followers, and Bilbo was startled by the tight lines of his face, the fear that was evident in the line of his mouth. He wondered if that was for their situation, or for their location, or just for Kíli - and then he tried to stop thinking at all, not liking the fears whirling around in his own mind.
Thorin finally led them off the street, through a narrow crack and into the darkness of a deep vault. Bilbo was relieved to see light a little ways ahead, and even more cheered when he found it was the friendly light of a small fire, tended to by Dori, Nori, and Ori, who all offered hushed, if cheerful, greetings. Thorin looked around as they all clustered around the fire, obviously counting heads, and he raised an eyebrow.
"Has anyone heard from Bombur or Gloin?"
"Bombur sent me an email," Fíli volunteered. "He can't get away without attracting far too much attention just now, but he's waiting for your orders."
It took a moment of shouting in Oin's ear to make the question understood, but he finally gave the same answer about Gloin - he was safe and well, but didn't dare risk his cover by joining them that evening. Thorin gave a heavy sigh, and gestured for them all to sit around the fire. Bilbo sank down gratefully next to Fíli, who was already half-supporting Kíli's weight as he leaned against Fíli's shoulder.
Thorin was the only one who remained standing, his back straight and shoulders broad as he paced around the cavern. "You've all heard what happened last night?" Nods and murmurs from all around confirmed it, and Bilbo shrank back a bit, afraid of the blame he was half-certain was coming. But Thorin just shook his head and continued. "What you may not know is the value of what our burglar brought back. We have our first glimpse into the things Smaug is truly doing, the evil he is perpetuating - and on my mountain!" His voice rose into a roar at that, echoing around the vault, and Bilbo's eyes flew wider open.
It took a few minutes for Thorin to explain everything - the smuggling ring, the illegal trade, the desecration of their home in the service of evil - and as he spoke, the mood of the gathering grew darker and more threatening. When he stopped speaking, the silence rang almost louder than his voice, and Bilbo shivered a little. The faces of the Sons of Durin were dark and almost evil in this light, flickering glow casting their eyes into shadow and lengthening their eyebrows and beards into sinister masks.
"And what will we do?" Dwalin growled, eyes fixed on Thorin. "We will follow you in whatever you decide."
"We are going to war." The declaration was flat and short, but filled with a rage that made Bilbo shudder. Thorin sounded ready to murder Smaug with his own hands.
"Now, lad, let's consider our options," Balin said reasonably. Thorin turned on him.
"Don't tell me to wait any longer," he rasped, eyes dark and dangerous. "Balin, your wisdom has saved us all many times, but do not counsel us to bide our time or wait for assistance. None is coming but what we make for ourselves."
"Will we attack Smaug himself?" Ori piped up, looking nervously excited; Bilbo was quietly disturbed by a man who wore hand-knitted cardigans and gloves talking about fighting their enemy with that much enthusiasm.
"Of course we will!" Thorin's response was a shout of rage against his enemy. "We will take this war to him, and to all that is his! We will destroy him the way he has destroyed us! Defile his home the way he has defiled our home!"
Bilbo couldn't contain his snort of disbelief, and all eyes turned to him, more than a few looking hostile. "And what good will that do Beinn Chùirn, I'd like to know?" The question was far more confrontational than he generally liked to be, and he cursed his mouth even as he heard the words continue to spill out. "When you're all in prison, or dead, what use will it all have been? Twenty years, and you'll throw it all away in a suicide mission for a revenge that will do none of you any good?" He shook his head.
"What sort of a life is this?" Thorin demanded, fury and desperation at war in his eyes. He pointed at his nephews, who were huddled together in front of the fire, Kíli looking worse even than he had a few hours before. "When our children are dying before our eyes, and we cannot do anything to help them? How can we wait?"
Bilbo had opened his mouth, though he had no idea what he would even begin to say, when there was a roar of laughter from behind them, and the Sons of Durin leapt to their feet - those who could, at least. An immensely fat man in a leather jacket covered in metal studs stood in front of the only way in or out of the vault, and he clapped his hands slowly together as his eyes met Thorin's.
"Thorin Oakenshield. The man who would be king." He offered a mocking little bow. "It's so nice to see you descending to my level here. I thought you lads didn't hold with skulking around in the dark?"
"You'll want to leave now," Balin told the stranger, voice steady.
"No," he said, a cruel smile appearing at the corners of his mouth. "I think you will be the ones wishing to leave - and I'm afraid you've left it too late." From behind him, a crowd of men began to shuffle in, all dressed in dark leather, and most sporting tattoos and missing teeth. They came in such numbers that Bilbo lost count, and although the Sons of Durin huddled together, pressing Bilbo and Fíli and Kíli to the centre of their protective circle, they were completely surrounded.
"Who are you?" Thorin asked, not bothering to even attempt to sound polite.
"I'm hurt that you don't recognise me!" he said, posturing in an attitude of sincere hurt. "You're on my territory, Thorin, and I don't take kindly to that. This all belongs to the Goblins, and we don't like strangers coming in and threatening our position!"
"Tell 'em what we do to intruders, Great Goblin!" One of the men to his right snickered, and the rest nodded knowingly, smiling with cruel amusement.
"Well," their huge leader said, folding his hands comfortably on his stomach, "generally we knock them around a bit; maybe take an eye or a few fingers, as a first-time warning." He stepped forward, little eyes glittering in the firelight. "But this, my lads, is what we call a special circumstance, on account of you being worth a pretty penny if we bring you in!"
"Take us to the authorities, and you'll be arrested yourselves!" Dori said sniffily, tossing his chin up. "That's an empty threat."
"Ah, but it's not the police who've got the biggest price on your heads anymore, is it?" The Great Goblin sniggered, turning to his men to be sure they were sharing his amusement. "Word everywhere is that Azog's looking for you, and he's made a very respectable offer for you lot, dead or alive."
"Azog?" Bilbo whispered, feeling lost, though the others clearly recognised the name.
"Bad news," Fíli muttered in his ear. "Very bad. Smaug's right hand man - handles all his underworld business. He was probably the drug dealer keeping a leash on our informant."
"Now as I see it," the Great Goblin said conversationally, "we've got a few choices here. We can make an example of you ourselves, to warn others off our territory." A few cheers went up at that idea, and he waved them off. "We can hand you in to Azog and collect the money, and rest like honest men for a while." Louder cheers at this, with a few boos mixed in. "Or - and this is the plan I like the best," he said in a stage whisper, "we can do both!"
At that, the Goblins rushed forward, breaking through the Sons of Durin and tearing them apart. They were scattered around the cavern, each subdued and held by several strong men, though most of them didn't go without a fight. Dwalin and Thorin both left opponents bleeding on the floor, and had to be held by nearly half a dozen men each, while Bilbo stood stock-still, afraid to even breathe for fear of attracting attention, and only one of the Goblins bothered to grab hold of his arm. Fíli and Kíli were yanked apart and dragged over near Thorin. Though they stood tall and held their heads high, Bilbo could see the terror in their eyes, and hoped it wasn't apparent to the Goblins how physically damaged both of the boys already were.
"Now that we're all settled comfortably," the Great Goblin roared jovially, "let's have a bit of fun! After all, Azog didn't specify how you have to be delivered, so he's not entitled to complain if you show up a bit damaged from the handling, is he?" The Goblins roared again in amusement, and the Sons of Durin struggled against the arms that held them, some of them starting to become seriously worried. The Great Goblin waddled happily over to Thorin, cackling with amusement when his attempt to kick out fell short by a full foot. "Now, is that any way to treat your hosts?"
"Let us go," Thorin growled. "If you lay a finger on any of us, I'll have your throat out."
"Ahh, that's right," the Goblin giggled. "Words have always been your sharpest weapons, haven't they? All bark and no bite, Thorin Oakenshield. Well, let's see how you do with your words." He held out a hand, fingers like sausages wiggling in Thorin's face. "We heard what you took from old Gollum. We've tried to get it off him before, with no luck, so our congratulations on that! But we want it."
"Never," Thorin said, sounding almost bored. "That's not going to happen."
"Now, now, you didn't let me finish! You must hear the choice before you decide! Give me the drive," he said pleasantly, "or we'll take our time making your people bleed." He stepped closer, all amusement now gone from his face. "They will beg you to hand it over, and they will die screaming, if you don't give in."
Thorin's eyes had gone icy with hatred, and his face was unmoving when he spoke. "Every one of my men has chosen to follow me in our cause, and is devoted to its success. None of them would wish me to give you the information that could take us home. I will not give it over to the likes of you."
The Great Goblin drew back, looking disappointed. "Well, we'll have to see how long it takes you to change your mind! Blood can be a powerful persuasive tool." He looked around, eyes lighting up as they fell on Fíli and Kíli. "Especially the blood of your blood. Your sister's sons will die first."
Sorry it's so late this evening, folks! It's been a busy day.
I really enjoyed reading your guesses, and was highly impressed by the things you'd noticed! I'm one of those authors who loves to throw in tiny details everywhere, and it's usually meant to be important somehow, which is just to make it all more fun and challenging for myself. When other people notice them, I get all happy and excited!
Sorry to leave you on another cliffhanger, but those seem to be where I stop well - and since I've sworn not to keep you waiting too long, I don't feel incredibly guilty about it! Hope you enjoyed this installment - and tomorrow should be very exciting! Thank you all so much for reading! I would offer you tea and biscuits if you were here!