Chapter 20
„Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great and would suffice." Fire and Ice- Robert Frost
The rain was pelting down heavily upon them, as they made their way through the Misty Mountains. After long, exhausting days of wandering through the most extraordinary landscapes, roaming an increasingly arid and rocky terrain, which slowly morphed into the arctic and lapidarian bailiwick of the mountains which they now found themselves crossing to reach Rhovanion. They would first have to cross the Green Woods, where the woodelves and their King Thandruil resided as Thorin had told them begrudgingly, before they reached Lake Town, which lay by the lake of Esgaroth and by the Lonely Mountain. A long journey still lay before them and Bilbo feared that from now on, ever since they left the hospitable halls of Rivendell, their venture would only become more precarious in its nature. And he was not being contradicted by the heavy storm that was upon them, with its flashes of lightning like blazes of fire from the heavens and its thunderous growls like the roar of omnipotent brutes. The rain that was being lapidated upon them were like biting, salient needles and its cold penetrated to their bones. It was also rendering the narrow, jagged path beneath their feet alarmingly unctuous. Bilbo watched his feet carefully as he treaded the waxy stones and pressed himself planate against the rough stone of the mountain, holding on to the jutting stone like a lifeline. He had dared to gingerly look over the edge of the path when they had first ventured through it and the sight that had met him had left him dizzy and petrified. He feared falling into the endless and gaping abysm he had glanced into, ravenous like the dark mouth of a dismaying behemoth.
He walked carefully but surely between Dwalin and Bofur, wishing to escape as quickly as possible from the hankering cliff. At the front of their wary and rain-drenched procision was Thorin Oakenshield, their very own leader, who seemed undeterred by the avaricious hunger of the cliff-edge he toed, and who lead them deeper and deeper into the range of the Misty Mountains through plunging valleys and twisting, narrow paths undeterred by his kin's palpable alarm.
He looked over his shoulders and had to squint momentarily, as the rain ran a dale down his eyes. Through his water-impaired vision he saw his cousin at the back of the company, looking similarly alarmed as wet strands of hair, which had escaped her braid, clung tightly to her face and he could see her knuckles turning pale from her grip on the mountain stone. Bifur, who had spent the last few in Laurel's company, walked right behind her clutching his wooden axe tightly in both hands, as if he could protect her from falling with his weapon. Bilbo turned his gaze back to the front and once more devoted his attention to his own walking, having been appeased that his cousin seemed to be safe for now. He was thankful that from his expression, Bifur had seemed intent to protect his cousin and that he had remained loyal to the friendship between them, despite Laurel's heritage. He had been so thankful that his cousin's melancholic and mournful demanour had been somewhat lessened after Bifur had approached her and had then proceeded to walk with her during their wandering and sit beside her during the nightly campfire. They made an interesting pair the both of them, Bilbo had thought last night before the company had entered the Misty Mountains and had set up camp on the last verdant patch they had been able to find before the landscape had become snowy and austere. They made an interesting pair, Bilbo had thought affectionately while he had sat beside Bofur and while the spirited dwarf had talked to him about something, he had watched the red-haired girl and the reticent dwarf sitting beside each other silently, occasionally gesturing with their hands and sitting closely together, almost as if they wanted to confirm the presence of the other. He had been grateful to Bifur, because he had been the only dwarf that had not forsaken his cousin for the sake of the dwarfish prejudice against elves; because he had held steady to their friendship; because he had ignored the dark and accusing glares that, principally, Thorin and Dwalin had sent in his direction and had smiled back at Laurel, when she had gestured something that seemed to amuse them both.
His thoughts on the friendship between his cousin and Bofur's cousin were cut short, when he felt the weathered stone beneath his feet give out and he stumbled forward. As he was walking horizontally and pressing himself flush against the wall of the mountain, he almost fell face forward into the dark abyss he was so frightened of, but was stopped from doing so, when both Dwalin and Bofur put a steadying arm on his torso, preventing him from tumbling down the edge. He felt himself being roughly yanked back and at the impact of his back against the rough stone of the mountain he felt the air being violently pushed out of his lungs. But his enormous gratitude exceeded his slight chagrin at Dwalin's handling of him.
"We must find shelter," Thorin bellowed over his shoulders, wishing to be overheard against the clamorous symphony created the rain as it pounded on the rock and wore it away and by the rumble of the thunder in the sky above them.
"Look out", Dwalin shouted looking with alarm and disquiet into the distance. Disconcerted at seeing the near fright in the warrior's face, Bilbo looked in the same direction as Dwalin was and squinted his eyes, as he saw a silhouette of something approaching them at a distressing speed. As the object moved closer, he briefly recognized that it was a huge boulder and the next thing he perceived was a deafening explosion coming from somewhere above them, before they were bombarbed by a downpour of edgy and rigid rubble. He and the rest of the company screamed out and crouched low, with their arms shielding their vulnerable forms, trying to protect themselves from the attack of the rocks.
"This is no thunderstorm," he heard Balin say ominously in cognizance. "This is a thunderbattle!", the white-bearded dwarf exclaimed in distress, looking at something in the distance. Bilbo followed his gaze only to see that the peak of what he had assumed was a mountain was stirring, almost as if the mountain itself was being shook by the force of the storm. But then the silhouette of the mountain slowly morphed into something that resembled more the form of a human, and then the giant took hold of another gargantuan rock, dislodging it from its seat before hurling it in their direction.
From beside him, he heard Bofur call out, his voice more serious than Bilbo had ever heard it: "Bless me, the legends are true. Giants. Stone giants." Bilbo did not get a chance on dwelling further on Bofur's words, rather than hearing them and recognizing them as true, before he felt the ground beneath his feet move. Dwalin, Bofur and him pressed themselves more closely to the rock, as the stone path they were stood on crumbled and get thinner and they were left standing on a thin strip of stone.
He looked to the side as the outcry of the dwarves grew even louder and he saw that what had caused the uproar was the rift that was forming in the path a little behind him, which grew until it separated half of the company from the other. He was left to watch helplessly, as his cousin was separated from him by the gap that grew bigger every passing second. He was left to despair, as he watched his cousin's feature contort in panic and he heard her shriek his name, before she tried to fling herself over the edge to go to him and was only prevented from doing so by Kili's hold, who in turn was looking at his older brother frightfully as he was separated from him. He looked up to see that the mountain they had stood on was in fact another giant, which had only just risen to partake in the battle.
As the battle raged, the ledge they stood on started to move at a breathtaking speed and he continued to look over to the side, as the other half of the company grew smaller and smaller, as the distance between them increased. He was rattled when the ledge they stood upon impacted with another mountain that stood still momentarily and Thorin Oakenshield urged them to move from this precarious edge to the one that was more stable. He quickly followed their leaders orders, while the battle of the giants raged on above them.
Then he saw the head of the giant they had stood on dislodging itself from its shoulders after the other giant had delivered a mighty blow to it, and like the boulders that they had thrown previously. The head sailed through the air before it impacted with the mountain above them and exploded into smaller fractions of itself, which rained down upon them.
The ledge of the headless giant, which the other half of the company and most importantly his cousin still stood upon swayed dangerously back and forth, before it passed by them, so that he could glimpse a fleeting look of his cousin's alarmed face, while she stood between Kili and Bifur. Then the next thing he saw, and the sight made him grow cold with dread was how the ledge approached the rock of the mountain, a good distance before them at a dashing speed and crashed into the stone with a mighty roar. The giant fell into the plunging abyss and there was no sight of any of the dwarves form upon its ledge, as Bilbo watched its descent with panic.
"No!" he heard Thorin howl beside him like a wounded animal. With nimble moves, the leader of the dwarves moved towards the area of the impact, fueled by his fear of what he would find there. "No!", he continued to scream, most likely in fear of his nephew's life.
Ice spread like a wildfire through Bilbo's veins and he feared for his cousin's fate. He imagined what most likely had happened to her and at the grotesque images his mind conjured, he gave a shrill outcry of pain and bounded after the similarly distressed dwarfish king. I knew we should have stayed in Bag End. If something happened to her, if I lost her... I will never forgive myself, Bilbo chanted in his head like a sacrilegious prayer. He had lost every sense of fear and was fueled by his need to see her, to confirm if what he dreaded had truly occurred.
He felt his form slump with relief and joy, when he rounded the corner and saw her sitting on a the path, her hand clutching her forehead, appearing slightly disoriented but otherwise well, as she allowed Kili to help her to her feet. His relief was so great that he momentarily forgot where he was and the continued danger from the glassy surface he walked on, that he bounded over to her.
But that was a mistake, as it soon turned out, because he felt himself slip on a particularly soapy surface and then he felt himself tumble over the edge and none of the others came to help him, because their attention was solely on the others, whom they had shortly ago thought perished. He felt the air rush by his ear and by a stroke of luck, he was able to stop his fall by grabbing onto a jutting rock. He hung onto his lifeline with all his might, even when he felt the uneven surface cut into his palm.
"Where's Bilbo?", he heard the dulcet voice of his cousin call out over the clamour of the dwarves. The noise died down for a second and then he heard Bofur's distressed voice, as he too called out: "Where' Bilbo? Where's the hobbit?"
He had been silent, since his fall. The shock of what had occurred rendering him speechless, but self-preservation kicked in and he started to grunt and call out, in hopes of making the dwarves quiescent of his whereabouts. "No!", he heard Bofur's accented voice mutter, as he seemed to grasp what had occurred and then Dwalin's throaty voice commanded: "Get him!"
He could no longer keep his grasp on the rock, as his palms were throbbing at the pain inflicted upon them. He felt his grip slipping and he fell once more, just as he saw the distressed faces of Bofur and Laurel over the edge of the cliff, as they looked down at him distressedly. He managed to grasp another jutting rock with his right hand, which hurt less and he stared up wide-eyed at Laurel's frantic expression, as she called out his name and outstretched her hand, urging him to take it. He stretched his arm up, but could not grasp her helping hand, as his arms were too short. His fingertips were left to ghost across hers like the most cruel and algid of winter gales. He saw her faces contort in agony, and with alarm he saw that she was moving impossibly closer to the edge in a desperate attempt to reach him. She seemed to be only stopped from risking her life and tumbling down the edge for him, something he feared that she seemed quite content on doing for him, by Fili and Kili's constraining hold on her, as they called out her name.
"You will kill yourself!", he heard the thundering voice of Thorin Oakenshield, as he addressed his cousin and looked at the red-haired girl with anger and disapproval prevalent in his eyes. She looked away from him momentarily and toward the dwarven king, shaking with agony and despair and she screamed at him with a breaking voice, seemingly deranged by her worry for him: "So be it! If he dies... nothing will bring back what I've lost. I love him more than anything else." A deafening silence followed his cousin's words, which was only broken the unending sound of the rain as it pounded onto the rock.
He was about to call out to her and tell her to get away from the cliff, when he saw Thorin fling himself over edge and skillfully climb down to him, before pushing him up towards the arms of the waiting dwarves, who hoisted him to safety. While doing so, he heard an alarmed outcry from the dwarven king and saw that Thorin had slipped and was only prevented from falling off the cliff-edge, because Dwalin had been able to grasp his hand and pull him up at the right moment.
He was relieved to once more be on safe ground and to not be experiencing the sensation of having a vacuum beneath your feet. He scrambled away from edge of the cliff and was immediately seized by his cousin into an embrace so tight, that it was almost painful. Yet, he welcomed the pressure of her arms around him, because he thought that he had lost her and only now did he become fully aware that this was not an extraordinary occurrence and that everything they were on this quest he was risking his life and the life of his dearest friend, something which was invaluable to him. He felt her trembling in his arms, as she buried her face into the crook of his neck and he was not sure if the humidity he felt there was due to the rain. He held her tightly to him like a desperate man and to assure her of his presence, of his survival he kissed the crown of her head before laying his cheek upon it and exhaling heavily.
He felt someone pat him gently on the back, before he heard Bofur's voice, as he said in obvious relief: "I thought we had lost our burglar." He looked up and was about to look over his shoulder, grateful for the dwarf's friendly gesture, before he was stopped from doing so, as he was caught by Thorin's contemptous and dark glare at him, as the king under the mountain breathed heavily and scrambled to right himself.
"He has been lost ever since he left home. He should never have come. He has no place amongst us.", Thorin spat and sneered at him, angrier than Bilbo had ever seen him, angrier even than when he had found out that Laurel was half-elf, as he looked upon the embracing hobbits with disgust. Unwillingly, Bilbo felt his features contort with hurt and for the first time he became aware that he was not as indifferent to Thorin Oakenshield's opinion, as he had liked to believe up until now. He was hurt that their leader was unwilling to recognize any of his efforts up until now and there was just something about Thorin that inspired... loyalty and the wish of earning his good opinion. And now he understood his cousin's insistence with continuing on this quest and her growing loyalty and regard toward the dwarven king.
Yet, regard was probably the last thing she felt, as Bilbo felt her grow rigid in his arms like the most unyielding stone, which contrasted so greatly with her usual warmth and softness. He felt her lift her head from the crook of his neck and saw that her eyes were glowing brightly and her nostrils were flaring and he had to resist the urge to flinch away from her, because he had never seen his cousin look so deadly wrathful. But then, her features rearranged themselves and she grew cold, so cold, and Bilbo was unsure if he did not prefer her fiery rage to her icy expression. He saw her turn her head slightly and then she hissed at Thorin Oakenshield, who had turned his back to them, in search of shelter: "Cruel, hateful man!"
Bilbo shuddered as her words were laced with a finality that even he felt seeping through his bones. A finality of someone, who had grown sick of something, of someone who had given up. He saw a slight stiffening to Thorin's shoulders and he no doubt had overheard her. He observed as Thorin turned back toward them and looked at the girl, who had turned from him and was still in Bilbo's embrace. Bilbo tightened his arms around his cousin in an unconscious, protective manner, as he saw Thorin sneer at her disdainfully and angrily, so angrily that Bilbo feared that Thorin would strike her for the insult she had offered him. Yet there was something elsein his grey-blue eyes, that Bilbo only understood after the king had gone off in search of shelter with his most loyal followers in tow. Bilbo held onto Laurel tightly as the rain pelted down upon them, pondering on the flash of hurt in Thorin's eyes, as he had looked at the red-haired girl.
He could not sleep. He looked up at the damp ceiling of the cave in the mountain, that the company had found refuge in. Laurel was lying on his arm and had her arms slung about him protectively, as she slept deeply, seemingly exhausted by the events of today. He wished that he could share his cousin's fortune, as he felt the steady rise and fall of her chest against his side, but his mind was racing with thoughts.
Thoughts about his near demise.
Thoughts on him almost losing his lifelong companion.
Thoughts on Thorin Oakenshield's lack of respect toward him.
And he was tired. He was tired of always worrying, albeit until now unconsciously, for his and Laurel's safety. After the incident of earlier, he had been shocked into the realization that no quest, no fulfilling of their dreams, no amount of gold and riches would ever compensate for what he stood to loose on this quest. That he and Laurel should not be risking their lives for a man, who would never recognize their efforts, because of his stubborn prejudice. He was tired of this quest. And he had come to a decision.
He gently rubbed the arm Laurel had slung over his waist and her eyes flickered open to reveal slightly disoriented blue pupils. She shifted slightly before her gaze returned to him and she said with her voice raspy from sleep: "Bilbo, it's the middle of the night. What is it?" She circled her shoulders, wanting to get comfortable on the hard ground she slept on.
"I'm going back to Rivendell, Laurel. I want you to come with me," he whispered to her and in response she looked at him with confusion, before she sat up in a speed that was astounding for one that had been half-asleep shortly ago. He sat up and looked into her eyes firmly and deeply, before she broke their gaze and whispered lowly: "But Bilbo... We promised." He could not help the tendereness that rose in him at the sight of her, looking so confused and helpless, resembling the child he had immediately taken to, when she had first arrived in Bag End.
"It does not matter, Laurel. It will not matter to them. They only view us as a burden." He saw her face contort with hurt at his words, but at the slight nod of her head, he saw that she had perceived them as true. She stood up hurriedly and with silent moves, she proceeded to pack up her things, while Bilbo followed her actions.
They both stood quickly and with immense care, they made their way through the mass of sleeping dwarves that lined the path to the arched entry of the cavern. So focused were they on their task of leaving quietly and not drawing the attention of the dwarves on them, that they did not see Thorin's grey-blue eyes open, not having been asleep and overhearing their every move, and he followed their sneaking forms, as they tip-toed through the cave.
They were just about to exit through the arch, when they heard Bofur's accented voice questioning: "Where do you think your going?" They stood quietly, as they heard the dwarf scrambling to his feet and in their direction.
"Back to Rivendell.", Bilbo turned and looked at the dwarf he had befriended, darkly. "No. You can't turn back now. You are part of the company.", Bofur whispered flusteredly, intent on stopping the hobbits from leaving.
"Part of the company?", he heard his cousin whisper beside him outraged. "I am an elf, remember? Bilbo has been lost, since the moment we have left Bag End. We have no place amongst you." As Laurel used the words, so cruelly spat by Thorin, Bofur looked down guiltily, before he whispered: "It was wrong of us... of me to mistreat you so, lass. Especially when you have never given us a reason to distrust you." His cousin, who had stood proudly in her righteous indignation, deflated visibly at the dwarf's apology, and her expression of outrage softened into one that was sadder, but more sympathetic.
"Thorin said I should never have come and he was right. I am not a Took. I am a Baggins. We both are. We should never have run out of our front door.", Bilbo stated sadly. "You are homesick. I understand.", Bofur stated sympathetically and at the dwarf's understanding Bilbo only grew more indignated and before he could ponder on his words, he exclaimed: "But you don't. You don't understand. None of you do. You are dwarves, you're used to this life. Never settling anywhere, never belonging anywhere." He immediately cringed when he saw Bofur's hurt expression and he cringed, when he saw his cousin looking at him incredulously and accusingly, silently telling him that he had gone too far.
"Forgive me," Bilbo muttered and looked down ashamed. He glimpsed how Bofur smiled at him sadly and shook his head before stating: "You are right. We don't belong anywhere. I wish you two all the luck in the world. I really do." Bofur came toward them and lay his hands on Laurel and his shoulders, before smiling at the two hobbits tenderly. He saw Laurel look at Bofur, who had grown uncharacteristically grave, before she nodded tightly at him and grasped Bilbo's hand in her own, signalling that they would now depart.
"What's that?" Bofur asked puzzled, just as Bilbo and Laurel had turned to leave. He looked back at the dwarf and saw him looking at the sword he had received from Gandalf, confusedly. They same sword that was of elvish make. The sword that would glow blue, if it detected goblins or orcs in its vicinity. The sword that was glowing blue now.
The only word that ghosted through Bilbo's thoughts, as he drew the sword from its sheath and his features were illuminated by the glowing blue light was 'Goblins'. Then a pained moan sounded from the cave, followed by Thorin's deep voice, as he ordered the dwarves to 'Wake up!' The next thing he knew was that the company of dwarves with him and Laurel had fallen through the sandy ground of the cave into the depth of the Misty Mountains.
Author's Note:
This chapter: Thunder battle, Bilbo being scared because he thought he lost Laurel, Bilbo being clumsy, Laurel trying to save Bilbo and putting herself in danger, Thorin rescuing Bilbo, Thorin being rude (oh is that some jealousy I see there king under the mountain?), Laurel being fed up at Thorin, Bilbo wanting to go home, Company falling through the ground.
I was really excited to get this chapter out and I would like to thank you for the Kind Reviews last chapter. You, my faithful Readers, are awesome.
BTW- I have just posted the first chapter of my new Guy/OC Fic 'Tears In Heaven'. I would totally appreciate it if you guys checked it out and perhaps gave me some Feedback in the form of Reviews (*NudgeNudge*)