Gandalf and Balin had returned some time ago from their chat and Bilbo had left them alone with the others for a while longer for the advisor to explain some things to the rest of the company.
The injured member had been given the antidote and the wound had been washed and bound carefully to protect it from further infection. It had taken some time but eventually Kili had been subdued long enough to have the vile liquid poured into him.
Bilbo had grown fond of all the Dwarves during their journey, but the younger members had wormed their way into her heart quicker than the others. It had pained her to know that one of them had been hurt – an injury that could have proved fatal. But that did not matter. He would live, and that was all that mattered now. He still looked paler than she was accustomed to seeing him and a cold sweat had broken out upon his face as the liquid did its work, but he would mend.
Azog had quickly finished telling her how he had come to find them perched on the top branches of the trees that grew near the edge of the cliff face - almost a mile from one of the larger exits to the mountains - the scouting parties circling below and the Wargs baying for their blood.
Apparently things had gotten more complicated when on top of the flames already licking at the ground, flaming cones had continued to rain down from the trees – curtesy of one Gandalf the Grey she had no doubt – keeping all the Wargs – Azog's party and well as the enemy's – in a whining panic as the flaming projectiles landed in matted fur and set tails alight. And then the trees had toppled.
Bilbo's head had began to hurt again at this point at the image of the Dwarves gripping onto the tree branches for dear life as they fell over. The headache had faded with a tingle of amusement though when her husband grumbled about having to fetch them all back onto solid ground once the scouts had been 'taken care of'. Bilbo prayed none of the dearly departed made it to her as a present. She had had enough of that for the time being.
All of the talking was now over.
Balin, Thorin and Gandalf had spoken to the Company – who had shot her looks that ranged from confusion to anger to curiosity – and she was glad that everyone was now informed of where they stood. Well…almost.
Now it was her turn to do the talking.
She tapped her fingers in nervous agitation on the armrest of her throne and surveyed them, trying to set her thoughts in order. Trying to think of what to say.
She was glad of the extra light provided by some more torches that had brought at her request. They had taken the dimness away and allowed her to see them all clearly. To see the looks on their faces.
Some looked back at her with the same open scrutiny she levelled at them.
Bofur with curiosity beneath his obvious discomfort at the situation. Not with distrust. Ori with fright. Dori with hate as he clutched at his brothers ready to push them to safety if the need arose. . Fili and Kili with pain and confusion. And the others, well, they looked at her like she was the dirt on their boots. Except for Balin who kept his expression carefully neutral and Bombur who was trying to calm an obviously troubled Bifur.
This was not the way she had wanted to do things. But they had left her no choice. Had they?
Was she doing the right thing to address them all? Surely she was, it would affect them all after all…
Oh, she didn't know anymore.
Deep inside she knew why she was so troubled. Despite what she told herself she did not want them to think badly of her. But they would hate her now no matter what her actions. And what did the hatred of thirteen Dwarves matter if it would rid the world of the Darkness.
She needed their cooperation, not their friendship.
It was true that she had signed that joke of a contract that they could try to hold over her head. But she wouldn't let them. The contract had been ridiculous when she signed it and it was still ridiculous several months later. And besides, the truth of the matter was that if they wanted to go down that path she was the one with a mountain full of Goblins at her beck and call. And she would be doing a whole load of becking and calling if it came down to it. There were bigger issues to deal with.
Besides she would still help them get their mountain back. Just not necessarily how they expected her to.
She cast her eyes about the group until she met Gandalf's. He was frowning slightly – no doubt annoyed about his staff being taken from him once again – but his eyes held a calculative glint to them that she didn't completely trust.
She stood from her throne and Azog shifted seamlessly with her, as steadfast as her own shadow.
The Dwarves shifted nervously and Thorin went so far as to bare his teeth at her in a silent snarl. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the childish display. If anyone could manage such a feat it was her husband. Thorin just looked…silly.
She clasped her hands over her stomach, threading her fingers together and felt the expansion of her stomach as she took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly.
She was either going to make the biggest mistake of her life or save them all…
"I have a proposition," she announced clearly.
Thankfully the only Goblins around apart from the guards and the Captain were those who headed what passed for the Goblin army. It had come as a surprise to her to know she had an army at her disposal all those years ago. Out of tradition they had been kept at the ready, but had never had to be used since the defeat at Greenfields. It looked like they would finally get a chance to see their hard work in practice if Thorin and the others agreed, and probably even if they didn't.
"We," she unclasped her hands and gestured to the left and the right, taking in the Azog (who was now flanked by his men) and the Goblins on the other side, "will assist you in disposing of the – how did the contract word it – ah yes – the 'pest' currently squatting within your mountain, and then, should the time come you will assist us in destroying…"
In destroying what exactly? A shadow? A myth? Whispers? A creature thought to have been rendered powerless eons ago?
She was saved from picking a term by Thorin scoffing.
"You expect me to make a deal with you," he laughed, looking to the others in the Company for support in his response.
He received it in sorts as some of them began to chuckle. Balin shook his head at the others and they settled down one again.
"Knowing I will be partnering with this filth,"
Bilbo was glad for the gloves she was wearing or her nails would have drawn her own blood she had made a fist so tight.
Although Thorin's eyes were on the giant Orc at her side as she knew he meant all within her realm, perhaps even her – and she had no doubt that he would turn as white as her husband if he knew just how many that spanned to between the Misty Mountains and Moria. The number of subjects in her realm was nothing to sneeze at and she had no doubt she could squash the Dwarven lords like bugs if she cared to. Which she didn't…but the temptation was growing stronger every moment she spent in Thorin's company.
"You will watch your tongue," she snapped irritably – not exactly the best way to deal with a fellow monarch she would admit but he was acting like a child by throwing his insults at her so.
"You forget who is in charge here, Thorin Oakenshield. You may be the be all and end all of your ramshackle group but here my word is law," she snarled.
Now who was throwing insults? Oh Bilbo, you have been in questionable company too often.
She heard metal slide against metal and saw Azog step forward. His dagger (larger than her letter opener she noted with a sting of annoyance) was drawn as he advanced upon the group.
They shifted, trying to draw away from the Orc but their movements were stopped by the guards circling them.
The panic on their faces was evident. As was the look of annoyance and blame they were casting Thorin's direction.
"Shall I make you a present of his beard, wife?" Azog grumbled at her, pausing for a moment to look at her.
Bilbo nearly smiled. Coming from Azog that was the equivalent of a bunch of flowers to sooth her feelings.
The Orc smiled at her – a disturbing sight if you were seeing it for the first time – and his eyes were alight with the nearest thing to mischief he ever came. He was enjoying sending the Dwarves into a panic. And if she was to be honest, she was enjoying watching it. It served them right for thinking they were so much better than she was.
She took her time to answer but eventually shook her head to refuse the offer.
Bilbo had no doubt that if she had said yes Azog would have presented her with more than a beard. He would have probably had an 'accidental' slip of the hand and a whole head would have been given to her – no doubt bearing a comical look of shock.
She had had enough of heads and dead bodies for the time being and a dead potential Dwarven king would be a political nightmare to deal with. Not to mention headache inducing.
Besides, just because Thorin was rude and arrogant didn't mean he should be killed.
Azog backed away after giving the Dwarves ample opportunity to admire his dagger. He tipped it to and fro, allowing the blade to catch the flickering light as he turned lazily away from them and returned to her side.
Silence as loud as any battle filled the air until she finally clapped her hands together just to fill the void.
"Well then, now that is out of the way, I have a story to tell you,"
And like all good stories it started a long time ago…
-To Be Continued-
Yay, plot is once again happening - kind of. Can I hear a 'whoop whoop'?
I really hope you enjoyed this chapter.
Have a good and safe weekend everyone :)