CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

*Please Note that Rosalie Kindrick is an OC Characters, other characters are copyright to MGM, Peter Jackson and Tolkien. This takes place in The Hobbit: AN Unexpected Journey and follows the script line roughly*

Everyone was asleep apart from Bofur and I. I had too much on my mind to get any rest. The near brush with death had certainly opened my eyes to a whole new world of dangers and possibilities. Also what Thorin had said about Bilbo really struck home. I began to think about my own life and how much everything had changed. Perhaps I'm not suited for this world. But you are supposed to be here, I told myself. Elrond said so himself- you are destined to be here. I all off a sudden didn't feel welcome here anymore. There was a noise from the back. I looked round to find Bilbo tiptoeing around the sleeping dwarves. Bofur, noticing Bilbo was moving, jumped up and blocked the entrance. I sat up, watching curiously. Neither of them had noticed I was awake.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bofur asked in a whisper so nobody else would be disturbed.

"Back to Rivendell," Bilbo whispered.

"No, no, you can't turn back now, you're part of the Company," Bofur insisted in hushed tones. "You're one of us,"

"I'm though, am I?" Bilbo replied. "Thorin said I should never have come, and he was right. I'm not a Took, I'm a Baggins, and I don't know what I was thinking. I should never have run out of my door,"

My heart broke for the little fella. I didn't quite realise how rough he was having it, I was too wrapped up in my own feelings.

"You're homesick; I understand," Bofur responded, looking distressed.

"No, you don't, you don't understand!" Bilbo insisted, growing annoyed. "None of you do= you're dwarves. You used to – to this life, to living on the road, never settling in one place, not belonging anywhere."

Bofur looks offended.

"I get it," I said.

They both turned to look at me.

"Look at me. I'm from a completely different world," I said, crawling towards them. "I'm not used to anything like this. If anyone doesn't belong here, it's me,"

"I am sorry, I didn't…" Bilbo muttered.

Bofur shook his head. "No, you're right. We don't belong anywhere. I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do."

Bofur smiles and places his hand on Bilbo's shoulder. I stood up and smiled at Bilbo.

"Get home safe," I whispered.

"You too," Bilbo responded.

He turned and began to walk away. I noticed something was glowing at Bilbo's side. Bofur caught sight of it as well.

"What's that?" Bofur asked.

"Your sword is glowing!" I said in slightly panicking tone. "Why is it glowing?"

Bilbo pulled his sword partway out of its sheath. The sword was a glowing a bright, eerie blue. It meant one thing: orcs are close by. Thorin raised his head. Suddenly I could hear strange machinery from underneath. I looked down to see cracks appear in the sand under foot.

"Wake up!" Thorin cried sharply. "Wake up!"

Before anyone could react, the floor beneath us just collapsed. We went tumbling down through a giant trap in the ground. I found myself screaming and sliding down a large chute at the same time. Fear coursed through me like a fast flowing river. The chute seemed to last forever. After tumbling and rolling down, the ground gave way and I fell into a wooden cage, on top of a pile of dwarves. More dwarves fell on top of me, crushing me. As we struggled to untangle ourselves, a horde of rather ugly, squashed looking creatures ran at us. Next thing I know, my quiver is being wrestled from my back, and the others are being separated from their weapons. There was a moment of confusion as I wasn't sure which was dwarf or ugly squashed thing. We began to get dragged away. In all the chaos, I lost track of little Bilbo. I prayed he got away.

We got dragged down a vast network of tunnels and wooden bridges that creaked as we crossed them. I forced myself to look forward, to focus on Bombur's back. We get taking a platform that is also a throne room. There's a raised platform in which the biggest and ugliest squashed thing sits on a wooden throne. He holds a mace with a skull on top. He's about five times the sizes of all the other creatures. There's warts all over his chin. It looks like gloop dripping down from his lip. It is not a pleasant sight. Our weapons are piled together at his feet. He leapt down from his throne and crushed a few of his subjects. He looks down at us and approaches us. I shrink back, wishing I didn't tower over most of the dwarves. I gulped in fear.