WARNING/S: Suicidal thoughts/tendencies, implied depression, crack-ish, depiction of injury, suicide attempt.
A/N: Oh, yes for people who didn't know, this will be a Bagginshield! But it's gonna be a SLOW BURN that you probably won't realize most of the hints.
Okay, there is an active action towards suicide here (previous ones were passive) so, yeah. Just a heads-up.
Thanks for all the comments, favorites (WTF, a hundred!), follows, and kudos! Wow, they're really wonderful and surprising 'cause this story is definitely not one of my best writing.
DISCLAIMER: Of course, I own The Ho-*the ghost of 100+-year-old genius linguist professor shows up* GAH! I don't own The Hobbit! At all. Take it, Tolkien!
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Half of them was tied to a spit, slowly roasting over the campfire. The other half was stuffed into foul-smelling sacks that removed much of their mobility. Bilbo was unfortunately included in the latter.
Agony spiked up his arm whenever he so much as twitched; he didn't even attempt to get out of his sack like the other dwarrows. He had to blink away not only tears of pain but also tears of frustration. It was his fault that the Company was caught. It was his actions that would kill all of them and cut the journey short for these noble dwarrows.
"It's alright, laddie," Balin, who was piled up right beside him, reassured. "Everything will be fine."
It was hard to believe the dwarf when the trolls were loudly discussing the seasoning they would use on the dwarrows. But Bilbo said nothing in reply, only letting out an exasperated sigh.
The thought of giving up was sorely tempting him. After all, before the day ends, Bilbo would achieve a creative doom he had wanted for years. But this death was only supposed to be his! Not Fili's, not Kili's, not Ori's—not all of the dwarrow's. He must do something!
If they can't defeat the beasts with brawn, then they have use their brains. There must be a clever way out of this . . . Where was that damn wizard when they needed him? Probably off creating riddles to confound the whole mortal population, Bilbo thought with a hint of spite. Still, there must be something they could do!
As if on cue, William muttered to his companions, "Never mind the seasoning! We ain't got all night." The troll turned the spit to evenly cook the Company. "Dawn ain't far away. Let's get a move on." A notion niggled at the back of Bilbo's mind—the beginnings of a brilliant idea or a totally dumb one. "I don't fancy being turned to stone."
The hobbit glanced up at the night sky and saw not a star twinkling above. It's always darkest before dawn, his mother used to say. It's pretty dark now . . .
And just like that, a plan unfolded in Bilbo's head.
Yes, he had read about the effects of sunlight on mountain trolls.
"Wait!" he exclaimed, getting the attention of everyone. Again, he swallowed the nerves that threatened to overwhelm him at so many eyes on him. Stall, Bilbo said to himself, you have to stall for the dwarrows. "You're making a terrible mistake!"
"You can't reason with them," Dori shouted from his position over the toasty fire. "They're half-wits."
"Half-wits?" Bofur followed, accent getting thicker with hysteria. "What does that makes us then?"
Bilbo stumbled to his feet, which was made difficult because he only had one functioning arm. Nevertheless, he successfully straightened up after a few tries and several stifled whimpers.
"Sit down, Bilbo!" one of the dwarrows hissed, though Bilbo couldn't be sure who.
"I meant with the seasoning!" Bilbo forged on, determined to at least try.
Bert turned to him, a scowl on his face but his interests were clearly piqued. "What about the seasoning?"
"Well, h-have you smelt them?" the hobbit said with a nervous laugh. "You're gonna need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up." Oh Eru, he really hoped this works.
Behind him, the dwarrows exclaimed profanities, calling the hobbit a traitor. Bilbo and the trolls ignored them. The hobbit hopped closer to the nearest beast, who was the cook, gritting his teeth when the movement jarred his shoulder.
"What do you know about cooking dwarf?" William asked, giving Bilbo a skeptical look.
"Shut up." Bert hissed. He leaned closer to Bilbo. "Let the hobbit talk."
The hobbit decided to start with a kernel of truth. "I-I know nothing about cooking dwarf. But—"
"See!" Tom piped up, pointing at him accusingly. "That one's lying, it is—"
"But!" Bilbo interrupted, raising his voice. "But . . ." He tried to think of something to add. His eyes brightened as he realized he could still salvage this situation and accomplish his goal. A brilliant idea crossed his mind, one he didn't waste time implementing. "Remember; I told you that hobbits are the tastiest morsel in the world."
"Yeah, you did, didn't you," Bert nodded, contemplative.
Bilbo nodded back. "We are so tasty, in fact, that after you digest us, every food you eat would be the outmost delicacy!"
"Bilbo, no!" He heard Fili yelled, followed by a barrage of bellows from the other dwarrows.
"Burglar!" Thorin's voice sounded above the din. "Stop this nonsense."
"Shut up, you lot!" Tom growled.
"What? I've never heard of such a thing!" William exclaimed with disbelief.
"'Tis true!" Bilbo insisted. "Why, all the goblins, orcs, and wolves who had a bite of us would tell you the same!"
"You tellin' us that we should eat you first?"
"Yes, yes," Bilbo answered, innately glad that his plan seemed to be working. The sky was already lightening so it shouldn't be long. "Now, recall what I told you about cooking hobbits."
"We cut off your head and let the poison flow out," Bert said, giving Bilbo a thoughtful look. After several contemplative seconds, he held out one hand to another troll while the other enclosed Bilbo in a firm grip. "Tom, get me my chopping knife."
"Careful, please." Bilbo whimpered as his injured arm was twisted.
"Laddie, what are ye doin'!?"
"Don't do it, Bilbo!"
"Let him go, you stupid ugly beasts!"
Tom griped, "But he wouldn't make even a mouthful."
"You don't have to eat much. Just a bite would do." Bilbo reasoned, valiantly resisting the urge to smile. "One gets my head, one has my upper half, and another my lower half."
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Unbeknownst to the trolls and one hobbit, the dwarrows' eyes widened with horror and shock at the words. What madness had afflicted their burglar? He was trying to get eaten first for no discernible reason! Thorin narrowed his gaze at the hobbit. The burglar was no means fool nor was he suicidal (Tharkûn would have mentioned that, surely). So what is he . . . It was then that the leader realized that the sky was no longer as dark as before; dawn was fast approaching.
The epiphany hit Thorin like rocks in a mine cave-in. He's stalling. And risking his life in the process. Did the halfling not realize they were in this situation because the Company wanted to save his life?
"I want the head," one of the beasts demanded, continuing his task of spinning the other members of the Company over the fire.
"Alright, alright," the seeming cook of the trolls agreed recalcitrantly, laying Bilbo flat on his back as he twirled the knife in his hand.
Because the Company cannot risk losing their burglar, Thorin called out, "He's lying!"
The clamors of the others silenced at his bellow. Bilbo looked at him with wide eyes filled with disbelief. (Also, Bilbo placed in a healthy amount of 'are you an idiot?' in his expression). The trolls turned to Thorin as one, pausing their activities.
"Whats'at?" one of the trolls asked, frowning.
"He's lying, of course," Thorin repeated calmly. Inside, the gears of his mind was working quickly to think of something to add to that. "Did you not know that . . . that halflings are infected?"
"You what?" the trolls asked in confusion.
"Aye." Thorin gave a solemn nod. "That one has . . . " Something disgusting . . . His gaze happened to land on an earthworm burrowing the soil beside his head. " . . . worms in his . . . tubes."
"Eww!" The knife-holder immediately pulled back his hand from Bilbo as if burned.
"I do not!" Bilbo protested, sounding scandalized beyond belief. He shot Thorin a heated glare. "Hobbit are clean of parasites, I'll have you know."
"Yeah, Uncle, what are you saying?" Kili defended, looking up at Thorin. "Bilbo doesn't have parasites!"
Thorin made a jerky movement to get his sister-son to catch up to the ruse; it would have been a kick to the head had the sack not impeded much of his movement. He saw Kili's eyes widened in realization. The dwarrows around him comprehended the plan not a second after.
"Ah, yes. He's got parasites as big as my arm!" Oin commented loudly, the lack of his ear trumpet rendering him unable to hear his own voice.
Kili followed, exclaiming vivaciously, "His are the biggest parasites! I've seen them moving around his stomach."
"What? No!" Mahal help them, was the Burglar actually trying to get himself killed? There was no need to further endanger himself. "They're lying!"
"He's riddled," Ori added, trying to be helpful. "Badly."
"Told you he was poisonous, didn't I?" one of trolls muttered. "You didn't listen!"
"You did it, Uncle," Kili whispered, relief palpable in his expression.
Thorin nodded, glad they didn't have to trouble themselves by finding another burglar.
That's what he told himself anyway.
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Bebother these dwarrows!
Bilbo appreciated them trying to save him. Wait, no, actually, he understood that their nobility wouldn't allow them to let helpless creatures die on their watch. Still, Bilbo did not appreciate their 'help'.
To the trolls, he persisted, "I told you! I'm not poisonous!" And how did being poisonous connect to having worms in his tubes anyway? Troll mindset didn't make any sense.
William glared at the dwarrows, a shrewd look in his eyes. "You think I don't know what yer up to? These dwarves are taking us for fools!" The troll gestured at Bilbo. "Cut him up, Bert!"
Well, it seemed their scheme didn't work after all. Bilbo almost let out a sigh of relief.
The dwarrows went back to shouting insults, pleads, and just a lot of gibberish exclamations as Bert took ahold of him again. Bilbo wondered why they cared so much. Surely, they could get a more competent burglar? Bilbo wasn't exactly one of a kind. . .
But Bilbo pondered no more as the blade end was placed over the expanse of his throat. He lifted his head to give the troll better access; a clean and swift decapitation, after all, was one of the most painless way to go. Finally, Bilbo sighed.
"Also, wait at least half-an-hour after eating me," Bilbo added, just in case. He wanted to give the Company more time. "That way, I'll be fully digested." Bilbo looked up the sky, glad to find the sight to be a breathtaking mash of blue, pink, purple, and orange. Not a bad view, if that was the last thing he'll ever see.
"Hmm, reasonable." Bert acceded. "Now, hold still, little hobbit."
Bilbo nodded solemnly. Bert raised the knife high in the air, one hand restraining Bilbo as if he was flopping fish. But Bilbo didn't struggle one bit.
"No!" He heard Kili cried out, sounding near to tears.
"Bilbo!" Fili yelled from his place over the fire. "Stop, stop, you cowardly smelly trolls!"
The hobbit's heart ached for the boys' cries so he replied, "Everything will be alright, boys." Well, the dwarrows would be alright, anyway.
And the knife came down with perilous certainty.
Of course, Gandalf decided to make a grand entrance. "Let dawn take you!" he boomed before a blinding light engulfed the whole camp.
The trolls screamed as the sunlight pierced their skin. They tried to cover their faces but it was no use; every part the sun touched instantly turned to stone. The knife tumbled out of Bert's grip, spinning quickly and cutting air. Bilbo, for one optimistic moment, believed that the knife was going to land on him, stabbing right through. Unfortunately for him, it landed a few short inches away from his head.
"Yeah!"
"Great timing, Wizard!"
The dwarrows cheered loudly as the last troll completely turned to granite. Loud boisterous laughter filled the camp, the Company doing a little victory dance in their respective bindings. Why, Bilbo believed he even saw Thorin smiling with teeth out. The wizard climbed down from a large boulder—one which he cracked in half to let the sunlight filter through.
Bilbo merely stared in shock at the knife beside him, unable to believe he survived that ordeal.
"Great timing indeed," Bilbo muttered, letting his head fall on the ground with a satisfying thunk.
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A/N: Unbeta'ed so all mistakes are because I'm a lazy bum (and also because English ay hindi ang wikang kinagisnan ko ;)).
P.S. Tharkûn is Gandalf's name in Khuzdul.
Alright, I'm reminding you guys again that suicide should NEVER be romanticized. Really, it's nothing short of sad. (Fuck, I'm a bad person for making this crack). Anyway, steer clear if the descriptions are starting to affect you!
Next up: Bilbo gets his injuries treated. The Company shares their opinions about their burglar.
Constructive criticisms are welcome! Help me improve my writing, guys!
Have an awesome day!
~ Vividpast