A/N: I'm glad that you guys are still enjoying the story. I know I haven't been updating as often as I used to, but I'm going to try to update more. Also, I have no beta reader so if you see any mistakes or have any advice, please let me know. Thank you! So, here's the next chapter. R&R. Enjoy!
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X
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The night air was chilly and refreshing. How long had it been exactly since Bilbo had ventured outside of the Lonely Mountain? A few weeks he knew, but it had felt like forever. He would admit that Erebor was magnificent and quite grand in its own right, but it was nothing compared to the outside world. Nothing could compare to the brightly shining moon that was in the night sky or the trees that swayed gently in the breeze. And during the day, Bilbo could just imagine the flowers that surely grew around the mountain and how alive the woods surely became. Yes, Erebor was glorious, but it had nothing on the natural beauty that surrounded it.
However, Bilbo was still fuming and angry and it had taken him a little while to cool down and actually look at the woods that surrounded them. During his trek to Erebor with Gandalf, Dwalin, Dori, and Ori, the woods had seemed peaceful and very safe. It was only after he had started to calm down that Bilbo realized that he had no idea of where he was, where he was going, or which way would lead him back to the mountain. He also realized that perhaps he should have listened when the guards at the gates said that it wasn't safe.
In all honesty, he had only started to calm down when he heard the first cry of what he assumed must have been a wolf. But as he hadn't heard another cry for quite some time, he pushed it out of his mind and actually looked around him. It was dark and quiet, very quiet, and very little moonlight passed through the many tree branches that surrounded him. After a few minutes passed, however, Bilbo found himself relaxing and he began to walk with more confidence. His feet carried him down a dirt path and around fallen tree branches and rocks that littered the way. The breeze that blew was a little bit chilly, but he didn't mind it one bit. It was refreshing and Bilbo figured that he needed it.
The further he walked the more relaxed and comfortable he became. These woods weren't unlike the ones around the Shire. Granted, he wasn't anywhere near the Shire, but still. Knowing that the two forests shared similarities gave him comfort and courage and allowed Bilbo to look around as he walked along the path. And then another howl came; only it was louder than the first one, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
His heart began to pound in his chest, almost as though it were aching to break free. Bilbo's eyes widened and looked around wildly, trying to see through all of the darkness that surrounded him. Not even his eyes could see very well in the woods around him and that made his stomach clench in anxiety and his palms sweat with nervousness. Suddenly, he was all too aware of just how quiet it had become. Aside from his footsteps and his hitched breathing, there were no other sounds. There was nothing to tell Bilbo if he was being stalked or not. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he shivered, although whether it was from the chilly air or the thought that wolves were in the immediate area, he didn't know.
A third howling cry sounded off and this time it sounded so close by that Bilbo was surprised he wasn't looking the wolf or wolves in the face. He stopped for a moment, panicking foolishly, before he made up his mind to turn around and head back to the Lonely Mountain. Moving faster than he should have in his panic, his hair feet stumbled over fallen branches and rocks and he nearly tripped as he followed the path. From the dark woods that surrounded him, Bilbo could finally hear something approaching and he paused. Whatever had been moving with him stopped and the noise ceased. Bilbo could feel eyes on him, although he couldn't see them and he didn't want to even if he could.
With his heart thundering loudly in his ears, his breath coming out in panicked pants, and his palms and face sweaty, Bilbo took off running as fast as he could. Whatever had been tracking him burst forth from the trees and landed on the dirt path before it took off after him. Looking over his shoulder, the hobbit saw two of the largest wolves he had ever seen. Squinting in the dark, he realized with a cold terror that they weren't wolves but wargs. The guards had been right when they had warned him and Bilbo had been stupid enough to brush it off. Now he was going to die a bloody, violent, and painful death and there was nothing he could do about it.
Not paying attention to what was in front of him, Bilbo tripped over a large tree branch and fell onto the pathway. He scrambled frantically to get away from the branch and try to stand up, but when he did, a hot, searing pant shout through his foot and caused him to fall back down, practically crumbling. Turning around to face the two wargs that had been chancing him, Bilbo crawled to get away from him. It was then that the rest of the warg pack made themselves known, bursting forth from the trees and darkness all around him, surrounding him in a circle. There were about seven or eight in all and they left no room for escape.
Bilbo Baggins, of Bag End, Royal Consort to the King Under the Mountain, was about to die.
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Thorin was walking to his chambers with Balin, who had been informing him of what the meeting tomorrow was about, when two guards approached them. They both looked equally frightened and worried as they quickly bowed and straightened up. The older guard, one with brown hair with a few streaks of silver in it and in his long beard, spoke first.
"Your Majesty, we've a situation," he said. Thorin suppressed a sigh. He was tired, especially after the scene with the hobbit in the dining hall, and all he wanted to do was get a few hours' rest. But as a king, he needed to be told about issues and, more importantly, he had to listen to what was being said about them.
"What's wrong, Loin?" he asked him.
"It's your consort, Master Baggins," the younger dwarf said. "He went outside about an hour ago for a walk."
Thorin almost sighed audibly. The hobbit… He had been making things so very difficult for Thorin lately. When Balin had first suggested that he take the hobbit with him on his rounds and to meetings, Thorin had thought that that would be as good enough punishment for his consort as any. And while it seemed that the hobbit had suffered immensely, Thorin believed that it was he himself who had been punished. His feelings for the hobbit had plagued him and confused him long before the incident with the fires, but they worsened with each passing day he spent with the small creature.
Surprisingly enough, Thorin found himself actually liking the hobbit, perhaps more so than he even wanted to. He had to admit to himself, just himself and no one else, that his consort was quite attractive, with his honey brown, curly hair, his big eyes full of innocence and curiosity, and his overall gentle personality. Yes, Master Baggins was quite attractive, even if he wasn't a dwarf, and there was something about him that drew Thorin to him. But he had no idea what to do! Things like this, feelings such as these, were strange and foreign to him. All his life he had been training to become king, and when his sister and her husband died, he had even become a father, what with taking Fili and Kili under his wing and protecting them. Whatever connection he felt with the hobbit was something he wasn't prepared for or knew how to handle. So, he handled it in the only way he could: like a child teasing his crush.
He seldom spoke or looked at Bilbo, but when he did he knew it was with the same look and attitude a prideful lad would give the lass he fancied. Although Thorin knew that the few remarks and comments he did make seemed rather childish and stupid, he didn't know how else to go about things. All that he knew was that he liked the hobbit and that he wanted to impress him and that he shouldn't feel like a dwarfling anymore. But he did and Bilbo made him feel those things and he had no idea what to do!
"And that is significant because…? He may do as he pleases, with or without a guard or escort, as he seems quite capable and determined to take care of himself," Thorin grumbled. Balin gave him a knowing look, but didn't say anything.
"We started hearing warg calls about half an hour ago. Far away at first, but now they're closer," the younger dwarf told him. "Master Baggins said he'd return within the hour."
"They're on a hunt, Your Majesty, and I have a hunch as t' what they're huntin'," the older dwarf said.
That was all Thorin needed to hear. Without so much as a passing glance at Balin, he barked out his orders. "Get Dwalin and a group of guards! Have them light torches and make haste to the forest immediately! I'll go on ahead."
"But Thorin, you're alone!" Balin protested even as Thorin began making his way towards Erebor's front gates.
"No, he's not," Fili said, coming around the corner with Kili by his side, his swords on his back. In Kili's hand was his bow and his quiver of arrows were strapped to his back.
"We'll go with him and make sure he doesn't hurt himself," Kili added.
"No! You two stay behind," Thorin told them, his voice leaving little room for argument while Balin, reluctantly, went to get his brother, Dwalin, and more guards.
"You can't go out there by yourself and confront a warg pack," Fili reasoned with him. "At least with us with you, you'd have two more pairs of eyes to watch your back."
"You're not well enough trained," Thorin growled as they marched down the main hall towards the front gates.
"Actually, Mister Dwalin said that we're gettin' better and better every day. He even said e might give you a run for your money, Uncle," Kili said, a big grin on his face.
"Besides, Kili is an excellent archer. His arrows would be perfect against a warg pack," Fili added. As much as Thorin hated to admit it, they did make a valid point.
"Very well. But take extra care in watching each others' backs. I'll not have my nephews die on me," Thorin grumbled as they walked past the front gates and out of the mountain.
Once outside, Thorin and his nephews ran down the trail and into the forest. With no torches to light the way and little moonlight making it through the tree branches, they had to rely on Kili's sight, which was far better than Thorin's and Fili's. It was what helped him become such a skilled archer and it was what they would have to rely on in order to make it to Bilbo in time. They ran down the dirt path, jumping and avoiding branches and rocks alike until Kili stopped.
"Up there. On the trail. There're about eight or so," Kili said.
"Where's Bilbo?" Thorin asked, a cold dread worming its way through his skin and into his blood.
"Can't tell. The wargs are all I can see," Kili replied.
"Shoot them. Draw their attention to us," Thorin instructed, drawing his sword.
"But, Uncle-"
"Do as I say, Kili," Thorin told him.
Removing an arrow from his quiver, Kili took aim with his bow and fired. It struck a warg in the back of its skull and it dropped dead onto the ground. The entire pack's attention shifted from the obvious terrified hobbit on the ground to them and without a moment's hesitation, the pack ran towards them.
With his sword in hand, Thorin fought them off, his nephews joining in the fray. But the wargs were large and strong and smart; they could maneuver and dodge the dwarves' attacks easily in the dark. He managed to bring one down that rushed him too soon and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fili bring another down. But he was confused. Eight was a small number for a warg pack; surely, there had to be more. And he had heard rumors of orcs joining forces with the wargs. His sources were valid, this he knew for certain, and that made Thorin wonder where…
As if on cue, an orc battle cry resounded and more wargs came running out of the dark towards them. On their backs were orcs, foul, disgusting, evil beings that had caused more fear and pain than Thorin could recall, and they would all gladly kill him and his nephews for practically nothing. They were more of them than what Thorin could count, but he didn't need to count to know that his was hilarious outnumbered. More than likely, they would all die. That was unacceptable. Fortunately, Thorin could hear Dwalin and his forces coming behind him and, sure enough, they made it just in time.
A fierce battle ensued and Thorin found it hard to keep an eye out for his nephews. Trusting them to look out for themselves, he focused his attention on the orc and warg heading towards him. Swinging his sword, he sliced through the warg's face, bringing it down, before he pierced the orc's chest. Wargs began to fall all around him and the orcs on their backs had to fight on the ground. Dwarves swung their swords, axes, and maces, defeating the large beasts and fighting off orcish weaponry. Another orc astride a warg tried to cut of Thorin's head, but the Dwarf King managed to dodge it just in time before he lashed out this his sword and brought the warg down. He was so focused on finished the orc off that he failed to realize that another one was sneaking up behind him.
With a loud cry, the orc raised its sword, posing to strike the King Under the Mountain, when he gasped. His eyes widened and he blinked a few times before his sword fell out of his hands. The orc's body followed soon after and Thorin turned, having finished off his orc, to see what had happened. There, buried into the orc's skull, was an orc sword and Bilbo Baggins stood there, trembling with fear and cold and pain. He was covered in dirt and looked absolutely horrified by what he had just done, but as the battled ended all around them, Thorin realized that the hobbit had just saved his life.
"Bilbo…" Thorin said softly, taking a step towards the smaller creature. Bilbo's wide, frightened eyes looked up into his own and Thorin's heart tightened painfully. The look on his consort's face was one that he never wanted to see ever again.
"O-oh, d-dear…" Bilbo stuttered before he collapsed onto the ground.
