The rain died down near morning.

They reheated some more soup for breakfast and left the cave.

Frodo still slept soundly, buried under the furs around the supplies in the cart. Legolas led the pony by the harness, pulling her and the cart along while Bilbo sat in up front.

The sky was grey and dreary, but the path was clear.

Bilbo kept Sting out and ready in his hand, polishing and sharpening the blade with a whetstone and cloth. It never hurt to be prepared and it gave him something to do while Legolas led them over the pass.

The air thinned with each passing moment.

Frodo whimpered, sitting up, holding his ears in his hand.

"What's wrong, Frodo?" Bilbo asked, setting the blade and cloth down to pull Frodo in his lap.

"My ears hurt. They won't stop popping."

"It's the air up here, Lad," Bilbo said, rubbing his back. "It'll get better after a while. Try yawning. It will hurt, but after a while, the pain will go away. Okay?"

Frodo whimpered, a few tears leaking out of his eyes.

Bilbo rocked him.

Hobbit ears are sensitive to many things, especially when young. He dealt with the same problem going over the pass ten years ago.

It took effort for Frodo to finally take Bilbo's advice and he wished there was a less painful remedy for the boy's plight. But after a few painful pops later, his earache merely thrummed and he wept, leaning against Bilbo.

Even eating was made difficult as every move of his jaws made Frodo's ears pop more and the pain had yet to go away at noon.

He gave up after a while, settling for hiding under the blankets and crying.

The day was uneventful otherwise. Sleep eluded Frodo since.

"We're halfway done," Legolas assured the lad, easing him into sipping broth at dinner when they took shelter in another cave. "Soon we'll be going back down. You're ears will still hurt, I'm afraid, but after a little time, they'll start to feel better."

Frodo sniffed, swallowing the broth.

Legolas pet his head affectionately.

Bilbo laid Sting on his lap, eying the steel in the dark, waiting for a telltale sign of enemies.

"Get some sleep, Bilbo," Legolas suggested. "I'll take first watch."

"If Sting starts glowing…"

"Then I'll wake you and Frodo," he promised.

Bilbo sighed. With Sting still in his lap, he closed his eyes, slowly drifting to sleep, listening to the fire crackle.

His thoughts focused on Erebor.

He knew he should expect a warm welcome, but how warm is warm?

How will he be greeted?

What will they think of Frodo?

What will Thorin think of Frodo?

How will Thorin act?

Will he be as stubborn as ever or will Bilbo see firsthand how much of the letter that was written be truth?

And his thoughts shifted to dreams.

Nightmares of being thrown down to jagged rocks…of angry eyes…of Frodo slain for reasons he couldn't begin to imagine or understand…of lands dark and beget with evil and poison…

Bilbo woke with a start, Sting in his hand and breathing heavily.

"Hush, Bilbo," Legolas said, staying his hand. "You were moaning and thrashing about."

"Oh," Bilbo said, swallowing.

His body still shivered and he was drenched in cold sweat.

"Thank you. For waking me," he said, setting Sting down with shaking hands.

"It's nearly dawn and the path is not yet clear, but we can prepare breakfast and by then the fog will have cleared up."

"Where's Frodo?"

"In the cart, fast asleep," Legolas assured him. "His ears aren't bothering him anymore. At least it seems so to me."

Bilbo stood and went to check on Frodo himself, as though afraid his nightmare had come true.

Frodo was curled under the blankets, breathing easily. His ears were a little red, but otherwise, he was fine.

Still shivering, he pulled Frodo into his arms and held him tight, kissing his forehead.

"The sooner we're out of these mountains the better," he muttered. "How much longer?"

"Another day, if we're fast enough. We may be too close to the goblins by nightfall, though—"

"Then we'll travel through night."

"I advise against it."

"I normally would as well, but I do not want Goblins anywhere near us, especially Frodo."

Legolas nodded, lips pursed as he stoked the fire back to life and reheated the broth.

Frodo woke slowly, adjusting to the difference in temperature given from being cradled in Bilbo's arms. He groaned and opened groggy eyes.

"My ears still hurt," he whined.

"Do they hurt as bad as yesterday?"

Frodo shook his head.

"Then the worst is over. The pain will go away, Lad. I promise. It'll just take a little while and you'll need to keep doing that trick Legolas and I showed you so that when we leave the pass you won't have as much trouble with your ears."

He frowned at the thought that maybe Erebor's altitude won't be nice for Frodo either, but he pushed it aside, knowing that Frodo's body will adjust to the change, given time. It can't affect him forever and Hobbits, for all their love of consistency, are rather adaptable.

Bilbo released him. "Come on, Breakfast is almost ready."

"Can we get beds soon?"

Bilbo blinked, chewing his lip. He smiled.

"Perhaps, if the person I'm thinking about is still where he was last I saw him and is willing to give us rooms for a night or two. I think we could all do with a real bed for a bit."

Frodo cheered, heading to the fire to eat fast.

Legolas tilted his head to the side, handing Frodo a bowl of soup.

"Who?—Frodo, careful! It's hot!"

"Okay."

He rested the bowl on the ground and lay on his stomach with a spoon in hand, careful to not let a drop spill and blowing gently.

"Do you not know Beorn?" Bilbo asked.

"I've heard of the Bear-Man and saw him at battle once, but I've never met him personally."

"He's rather amiable when he chooses to be," Bilbo assured him. "And hopefully he'll be okay with us staying a little bit. Though not nearly as long as the last time I was in his house! We haven't the time to dally that much."

"I think we should at least take a break to regain our strength. You've been on the move for quite a long time and it does wear on the little one, bless his heart," Legolas ruffled Frodo's hair before handing Bilbo a bowl.

Bilbo bit his lip.

"I know. At the same time, I fear any time spent dallying will give our pursuers a chance to attack us when we leave or where we are staying. I can't bear bringing such danger on a host. Especially not one like Beorn."

Legolas nodded. "At least three days, then. For all of us. Frodo especially."

"If Beorn is willing, then three days will be spent, but not a day more. We'll leave on the Fourth morning if we are given shelter," he said, spooning the hot broth into his mouth, it sent warmth down to his belly and was most welcome.

After washing the dishes again in a small stream nearby, they set out again.

Bilbo walked beside Legolas in silence, Sting in hand.

"Bilbo? What's that?" Frodo asked, pointing up the cliff.

Bilbo glanced at him, then up. He looked at Sting in his hand.

The sword glowed blue.

Bilbo swore, climbing into the seat. "Frodo get down under the blankets. Legolas, get over here and ready your bow. We've company!"

Frodo buried himself under the furs while Legolas strung his bow and joined Bilbo on the cart. Bilbo flicked the reigns, urging the pony to run, despite the danger.

He heard screeching behind them, but dared not turn around so taken up he was with steering. The cart tottered at every turn, sending his already frayed nerves on edge.

"Bilbo! You need to slow down!" Legolas shouted after a rather nasty turn nearly threw them all off the edge.

"And let us be caught?!" he shouted back.

"Would you rather us all die?!"

Bilbo swore, but tugged the reigns to halt the pony. The poor beast halted, whinnying, but the car toppled to the side.

Legolas seized Frodo's wrist, jumping off the cart. Bilbo cut the cords binding the pony grabbing hold of her reigns as the cart fell with all their supplies.

"PAPA!" Frodo screamed. Bilbo cursed again, pulling himself up. A clawed hand seized his wrist and lifted him up with ease, pinning him to the wall.

"Caught you, Scum," the Goblin cackled.

"Take them underground! Let the King decide their fate."

"Nasty Elf!"

"This one's a whelp."

Bilbo thrashed, trying to break free.


because the likelihood of passing over the Misty Mountains without any trouble is as probable as…Hell freezing over or pigs flying. *grins and runs away*