Bilba stood in the crypt, alone. The harsh rasp of her breath tore at her throat, and her heart thudded a rapid, staccato beat in her chest.
It was cold.
Not a normal sort of cold. Not the kind that held the promise of hot cocoa and a roaring fire at the end. Not the sort that brought with it the beauty of fresh snow blanketing the ground, the laughter of friends and the prospect of snowmen and sledding down steep hills. The sort of cold that brought with it the thrum of life even during its brittleness.
This cold was almost as oppressive as the silence. It hung thick in a darkness broken only by the guttering, unearthly blue flames flickering midair above three marble slabs. It bit through the thin dress she wore, chilling her skin, and no amount of shaking or crossing her arms made any difference.
She took a deep breath, and bit back a whimper as the foul, sickly-sweet stench of rotting flesh hit her nostrils, strong enough to make her gag
The room stank of death.
Her eyes went to the slabs and the cold forms laid out upon them. The white stone around them was stained dark and there were rivulets marring the sides of the slabs. Dimly she could hear a dripping noise, slow and leisurely as if it had all the time in the world. She supposed it did.
She swallowed, throat dry, and deliberately turned away toward the exit. She could barely see it, hidden in the shadow of the far wall.
It was shut.
Noise came from behind her. The rustle of clothing, and a cracking noise as of bones forced into motion after being long locked in place.
Bilba froze. Her lungs seized, and her breathing became rapid and shallow. Her head began to pound and her body went rigid.
"Bilba."
The voice was quiet, a hiss almost, and garbled as if pushed through ruined vocal cords. It was barely recognizable. Barely.
Bilba whimpered. Breathing became even harder and she opened her mouth slightly in the hopes of bringing in more air.
"It should have been you."
A hand slid over her shoulder and Bilba shut her eyes so she wouldn't have to see it. There was no way to avoid feeling it, slender, fleshless fingers with knobby bits where the individual bones connected. "I know."
The hand tightened, digging painfully into her shoulder. It yanked her around -
Bilba's eyes flew open, and she lunged upright in bed, dagger already in hand and held at the ready in front of her. She panted for breath, throat burning, and swallowed against the bitter taste of acid flooding her mouth. Adrenaline began to fade, leaving her shivering, and she scowled at the cold air streaming in through her open window as if it personally offended her.
"Damn." She really should have expected that. She put the knife down and began to pick at the blankets, hopelessly twisted about her body. She was drenched in sweat, which was simply disgusting, and her brand-new hairstyle was plastered to her head.
Her mind went back to the dream and her eyes, almost of their own will, went to her bedroom door as if she could see past it and into the living room. A thread of fear ran through her, and she suddenly felt very young and very small, like a child with a monster in the closet. For the briefest, most irrational moment, she thought about calling for Dwalin...
She shook her head and the feeling dissipated. "Don't be an idiot."
She managed to free herself from the bedding finally, got up and went to stand in front of the small window. She felt tired and achy, and her stomach had finally noticed how long it had been since she'd eaten.
Outside, it was still night, but just a tad lighter as the barest hint of dawn broke through the darkness. On her first go around she'd awakened to the rays of the barely rising sun streaming through her window. The house had been empty, long so from what she recalled.
It was impressive to think, even now, of an entire Company of dwarves managing to sneak out without waking her. She'd been a heavy sleeper back then, but not that heavy.
She idly linked her hands and stretched, arms over her head and back arched. She felt her shoulders and joints obediently pop and loosen.
She grabbed the oversized shirt and trousers she'd worn the day before, padded as quietly as possible from her room and went to the bathroom to bathe. As she was dressing after, her eyes caught on her reflection and she slowed at the sight of the pale, wide eyed young woman looking back.
Mahal, but she'd been young back then hadn't she? So young she'd charged out her door in a dress firm in the belief that an adventure was little more than a prolonged walk.
The bruising on the side of her face had settled into a rather spectacular black eye, leaving her skin stretched and tight and her eye a bit puffy. Fortunately, it hadn't affected her vision. Her other eye had developed a deep, black bag under it in solidarity making her eyes appear sunken and hollow.
She gave a tsk of disgust and finished getting dressed. She might look like a child again, but she was far, far from that foolish girl who thought not having a handkerchief would be her greatest challenge on the quest to retake Erebor.
She went to the door, pulled it open, and paused at the sight of Nori leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed and what he probably thought was a charming smirk on his face.
"Why, hello there, my lady," he said, pushing off the wall and giving an exaggerated bow.
The move brought him a step forward, into her space, but before he could press whatever sort of advantage he thought he had Bilba stopped him with a palm to his chest. "Down boy."
Nori gave an exaggerated gasp and put a hand to his chest. He tried to put it over hers, but she moved it. "You wound me." He leaned in and gave her a wicked grin. "I can assure you. I'm far from a boy."
Bilba gave him a deadpan look. "And I can assure you, Master Dwarf, that you haven't come anywhere close to being wounded. Yet."
Dwalin came meandering down the hall. He looked only half awake, but still managed to cuff Nori upside the back of the head. "Knock it off, brat. You can't handle her."
Nori looked ready to protest but Dwalin made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl and the other dwarf put his hands up in surrender. "I yield. I yield. Sheesh, can't a guy flirt with a pretty lady without getting his head bit off?"
He looked at Bilba as if expecting...something, but she simply crossed her arms and stared back.
Nori gave a tragic sigh. "I must be losing my touch." He shot her one final, hopeful, look before his shoulders slumped and he slouched past her into the bathroom.
Bilba frowned at Dwalin. "He wasn't like this last time."
Dwalin studied her in silence for several seconds. "He doesn't go after the innocent," he said finally.
Bilba flinched. The words shouldn't have hurt. She knew she was radically different. She'd been naive back then. She hadn't even known, truly, just how much of a bulwark the Rangers were between the Shire and evil things that would take advantage of it. She had simply -
"You know nothing of the world."
Bilba blinked as the words ran through her mind, spoken long ago by Thorin, but not to her. They'd been addressed to...Fili, and Kili, after they'd made a poor joke. A joke Bilba had found funny at the time. Now, looking back at it, she thought she'd have sided with Thorin.
It was just one more layer, she realized. One more thing that separated her from that girl all those years ago.
One more thing that separated her from him.
"Of course," Dwalin continued, "last time it was also obvious from the beginning what was going on, and not even Nori's fool enough to make an enemy of the Crown Prince."
Bilba stiffened, then shot him a dark look and hissed, "Why don't you say it a little louder? I doubt they all heard you." He looked unimpressed and she crossed her arms with a huff. "You make it sound like he's terrifying. The only one mildly terrifying is Thorin and that's because he's in a perpetually bad mood."
Dwalin looked amused. "So you think. You were given allowances."
Bilba gave him a disbelieving look. "Oh, really? Funny, Thorin's 'allowances' and his 'utter disdain and contempt' look strangely alike."
Dwalin chuckled and Bilba rolled her eyes in disgust and turned away. "I'm going to head out early. You lot can catch up."
He stepped in her path. "You haven't eaten since yesterday. You'll collapse on the way, and I'll leave you lie."
"It is what you do best," Bilba said with bitterness. Dwalin had been Thorin's Captain of the Guard in Ered Luin and had the tendency to lapse into treating her like a subordinate more than an equal. She hated when he did it. She hated it even more when he did it and he was right.
"Bilba." He had that tone of voice, like he was going to confront her right there in the hall. Bilba tensed and raised her chin, perfectly happy to give as good as she got.
"Now, now, children." Balin appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and pushed between them. "Let's not fight, shall we? It's far too early in the morning for it."
Bilba's eyes met Dwalin's and a shared annoyance at being called children passed between them, particularly when it came from Lord-Let's-Retake-Moria-With-Nothing-But-Hope-And-Positive-Thinking.
Dwalin made a sound that was half huff and half disgust and then, as if a signal had been given, they both turned in lockstep and left in opposite directions, leaving Balin to stand alone in the hall and wait for Nori. Or go find another bathroom. Whatever.
A rather delicious smell was starting to drift in from the kitchen, prompting her stomach to demand satisfaction, so she obediently followed it there. She entered to see Bombur standing at the counter whipping up breakfast from the last night's leftovers.
She'd never even thought about breakfast and, in hindsight, realized the dwarves had probably gone out the first time without eating anything at all.
No wonder Thorin had been so grumpy.
Bombur had the food laid out buffet style, so Bilba grabbed a plate and loaded it with food. She could hear shuffling from the living room, and quickly headed to her back door where she bypassed a small bench in favor of settling down at the juncture where Bag End blended into the hill it was built into. She leaned against the wall, placed the plate and mug of coffee she'd grabbed on the way out beside her, draped an arm over an upturned knee and did her best to relax.
Dawn was finally breaking, though the sun hadn't yet appeared over the horizon, leaving the area still cast in heavy shadow. Bilba could hear the faint chirrup of crickets and, down toward the river, spotted a family of deer.
It was a peaceful place, the Shire. One she'd taken for granted the first time around, and no longer fit into this time. What would have happened, she wondered, had she stayed back then? Awakened to an empty house and shrugged her shoulders instead of rushing out after them? Written off whole experience off as a bump in the road rather than the start of an entirely new chapter?
Would she have been happy? Content? Or would she have spent the rest of her life regretting and wondering what if?
She sighed and allowed her head to fall back against the wall with a heavy thunk. Thinking about it was a waste of time. She'd made her choices long ago, and there was no going back. So to speak.
She took her time eating, idly watching the sky lighten. By the river, the family of deer slowly started to wander toward the woods. She could hear birds in the trees, and the faint rustle of wind in the grass.
"We rarely appreciate what we have, until we no longer do."
Gandalf sat on the bench near where she sat, pipe in hand and pensive look already firmly affixed to his face.
"Go away, Gandalf," Bilba said shortly. "It's too early to have to deal with you."
"There's still time," he said quietly. "You could choose to stay."
"Hmmm, yes," Bilba said with mock sincerity. "And let the ring just rot in Gollum's cave." She turned enough to look at him. "Though I doubt it'll stay there long now that certain assholes know it's out and about. They may not know where I got it, but they know when. They'll track us the entire way."
"Yes," Gandalf agreed. "They've already started."
"So they have." The deer were gone, having vanished entirely in the moment she'd taken her eyes off them. Farther out she spotted the first rays of the sun spilling over the edge of the horizon.
Bilba gathered up her mostly empty plate and her mug and pushed to feet. "Time to go."
She left him sitting on the bench and went back into the kitchen. There was already a stack of dishes in the sink as most of the dwarves had come and gone. Bombur was cleaning up, humming softly to himself as he gathered up crumbs and bits of abandoned cutlery to put away.
He'd still been cooking in the future she'd left behind, one of the few to find a place in Dain's kingdom, even if only in the kitchens. The last time she'd seen him had been shortly after Bofur had left, down in the rooms where the ovens always kept it hotter than Mount Doom. He'd been happy and jovial, smiling even if it hadn't reached his eyes in a very long time.
Of the five members of the Company still alive then, he'd come the closest to getting a good life, but even that had been little more than a facade.
She set her items down in the sink, then turned, braced her hands and pushed up to sit on the countertop. "One might think you were the host instead of me."
He smiled at her, an actual smile instead of the one he used to fool those who didn't know him at Erebor. "I don't mind. You did enough for us already."
Bilba chuckled. She'd always liked Bombur and had often regretted the fact she'd only gotten to know him after the quest, in bits and pieces spread out between her rare, and later forced, visits to Erebor. "All I did was supply a roof and indoor plumbing. I paid someone else to do the cooking."
Bombur piled the remaining dishes in the sink and started washing them. Bilba reached to help only to have him gently push her hand away. "It still counts. You didn't have to do anything at all."
"I suppose." He reached for a dish towel near her and she scooted back to give him room. "You wouldn't have enjoyed me trying to cook anyway. Dwalin usually wouldn't even let me try. If we were too far from a town or city he'd-"
She cut off and mentally kicked herself. She needed to pay more attention to what she said. She and Dwalin went back so far it felt like she'd always known him, so far the body she was in had barely lived in comparison. If she weren't careful she'd slip up and leave the others questioning how the two of them had known each other for decades when the body she was in was barely into adulthood.
"You two traveled together?" Bombur asked, barely looking up from what he was doing.
"From time to time," Bilba answered, hoping the answer would be vague enough to satisfy.
He nodded to himself. "How did you meet, if you don't mind my asking?"
Bilba tensed, fingers curling in tighter to where she was still clutching the edge of the countertop. "It's a long story," she settled for finally, slowly.
Dwalin walked in, as if summoned, and she felt a rush of relief. If Bombur persisted she could foist him off on Dwalin and let him come up with a story.
"Tell me you didn't give Bag End to that woman," Dwalin said, annoyed. He stopped by the table, arms crossed and stance wide as if expecting a fight.
Bilba was always more than happy to oblige. "I didn't realize it was any of your business what I did with my own things."
He scowled. "You're not planning on coming back then, after?"
Bilba's eyes narrowed. This was hardly the time or place for this discussion, and he knew it. She pushed forward, off the counter to land lightly on her feet. "Is she out there?" It was impressive to think Lobelia had gotten up so early but, then again, it was likely she'd never gone to sleep to begin with.
Dwalin studied her for a long moment. "She was," he said finally, "but I seem to have scared her off."
"Fancy that." Bilba started to head past him, only to pause as his hand fell on her shoulder. She tensed, and then simply kept walking. His hand fell away, and she continued out of the kitchen.
There were only a few members of the Company left in the house, thankfully, so she was able to get to the office and retrieve the documents Lobelia wanted without having to deal with any potential mental breakdowns, for a little while at least.
It was far too early in the morning for that too.
After getting the documents she headed outside where her lane was filled to overflowing with ponies, dwarves, and hobbits doing their best to saunter past and pretend they weren't at all interested in what was going on.
She spotted Lobelia a few doors down, standing under a tree, and went to give her the documents. "Here you are, Lobelia. Thank you again for all your help. The food was excellent."
The irritated look in the other woman's eyes softened aa bit. She put her nose in the air and sniffed as she accepted them. "Well, I certainly hope the house wasn't left a mess."
"Not at all," Bilba said. It was something of a surprise, she found, how little the other woman's attitude bothered her. Perhaps it was a sign she'd matured. More than likely she simply didn't care. "I hope it brings you more contentment than it brought me."
Lobelia frowned. She'd crossed her arms and was idly tapping a foot on the ground. "Are you all right?" she finally demanded. "You had that whole...episode yesterday, and now all this," she waved her hand to encompass everything going on behind Bilba. "Are you sure you should just be leaving like this? With strangers?"
Bilba raised an eyebrow. "Why, Lobelia, are you actually concerned about me?"
"Of course not," Lobelia sputtered. "I'm just concerned that people will think I took advantage of your..." she gestured again, vaguely, with her hand. "Infirmity."
Bilba snorted. "Relax, Lobelia. My guess is they'll tell tales of the day Bilba Baggins went entirely mad, and privately rejoice in the fact that someone as respectable as you took over Bag End."
Lobelia sniffed and lifted her chin. "Well, naturally."
"Naturally." Bilba held out the documents and had them immediately snatched out of her hands. "You should probably go back for a bit though, so no one gets the idea that you and I are closer than we are."
Lobelia huffed. "Fair point." She started to turn, only to hesitate. "You take care of yourself, Bilba."
Bilba's eyes widened slightly. "I will."
"And don't let those dwarves walk all over you," the other woman added. "You've got the Baggins name to uphold."
Bilba felt a smile curve over her lips despite herself. "I won't, Lobelia."
The other woman gave a curt nod and, with that, stalked off back to her home with her head held high.
Bilba chuckled and turned back toward Bag End. It rose high at the top of the hill; the envy of many, and the pride and joy of her parents. Bilba had convinced herself that all that mattered. That the fact others envied her position meant she was in a position to be envied, and that the fact Bag End was her parent's dream meant it was hers too.
But she'd been fooling herself and, no matter how much the peace might call to her, or the nostalgia might pull at her, it wouldn't cover one vital fact.
And that was that if she'd been truly content, she'd never have run out of Bag End without a backward glance to join a bunch of strangers on an insane quest.
Most of the dwarves were already mounted, while the remainder milled about loading the two pack ponies and making sure everything was taken care of before they headed out. Bilba had a small pack she'd put together the night before but planned to pick up most of her supplies in Bree and elsewhere.
She spotted the pack now; on a familiar pony she hadn't seen in years. The animal was one of the smaller of the ponies, with a gray mane and tail. She was cute, Bilba realized with surprise and not at all the evil creature she'd been built up to be in Bilba's memory. But then, that had been her own fault hadn't it? After all, she had been the one who, having never ridden a pony or horse before, had believed it to be as simple as hopping on the saddle and telling the animal where to go.
She'd had trouble from the very start, leading to two exasperated princes lifting her into the saddle not once but three times until finally she'd -
found herself once again lying flat on her back, staring up at the sky through tree branches and wondering idly if perhaps she should have given this whole thing a little more thought.
Shadow fell over her, and she looked up to see the princes flanking her and leaning over their saddle horns to stare down at her, wearing matching looks of utter exasperation.
Rude.
Fili braced himself and leaned over, hand extended down to her. "Come on," he said. "You can ride with me for now."
Bilba pushed up to a seated position, only to immediately regret the decision as her tailbone complained about the new round of abuse she was subjecting it to. Fili still had his hand out, and she took a minute to study it as one might a snake of suspicious species..
On her still forming list of "Most Intimidating Members of the Company," Fili was third, right behind Thorin and the bald one who glowered all the time. All three Durins were intimidating, just by virtue of being royalty, but Thorin seemed to cultivate it, which moved him higher, while Kili reminded her of a puppy, which moved him lower.
Fili, however...Fili was no puppy, and he didn't have to try and be intimidating. He simply was. He had a... presence to him, she supposed was the best way to describe it. Oh, he was kind and polite and all, but the second attention was off him he would lapse into a sort of pensive attitude, arms crossed, body barely relaxed, and eyes seeming to miss nothing.
He had an air of command and confidence about him and, Bilba thought, had she been asked to pick out the royal instead of being told who it was she might well have pointed to Fili before Thorin.
The look in his eye now changed slightly, and it suddenly occurred to Bilba that she'd been keeping him waiting. Kili was still there on her other side but, ahead of them, the rest of the Company was steadily moving farther away. They'd stopped the other times she'd fallen off but had apparently decided this was simply going to be a thing with her and didn't warrant attention.
Bilba sent a glower toward them, and then reached up to grab Fili's hand. He was wearing fingerless gloves and, as she grabbed his hand, she was startled to feel a strange buzz race through her. It started at the point where her fingers were in contact with his and spread throughout the rest of her body, like a current of heat running through her veins.
His grip tightened and he hauled her to her feet before releasing her. Bilba stared at her palm as if it belonged to someone else, still feeling the heat as it slowly faded. She glanced up at Fili, but he was staring past her at the departing Company, an intense look on his face as he watched them get farther and farther away.
Bilba cleared her throat and shot a venomous glance toward the beast currently masquerading as her pony. "I can probably try again, if you want."
"Not today," Fili said, voice flat. "We'll work on it tonight when we make camp."
He nodded to Kili as he spoke, and his brother grabbed the reins of Bilba's pony and started forward, taking it up to meet the Company. That left Bilba with the option of walking or riding with Fili so, with a nervous smile and with her stomach tightening uncomfortably, she moved toward the back of his pony.
"Not there," Fili barely turned his head to look at her. "Unless you want to spend the next few hours with two swords in your face."
Bilba blinked in surprise. She'd forgotten he had those two weapons strapped to his back. She chewed on her lip, and then obediently walked forward and lifted her hands up. It would be fine, she told herself firmly. The only difference between riding in front and behind was the scenery.
He grabbed her hands and easily lifted her, up and over one leg so she was effectively sitting in his lap. Bilba suddenly found herself inches from a very broad, very masculine chest and realized that, in fact, there was indeed a difference between riding in front and in back.
She'd never been that...close to a male before. Ever.
Eyes wide, and face absolutely on fire, she managed to awkwardly get herself into a position so that she was sitting astride instead of sideways on the pony. Her heart was thudding in her chest, and her eyes were so wide it was a wonder they didn't pop out of her head. She braced her hands on the pony's neck and leaned forward, trying to lessen the amount of contact between them.
"You might want to relax," Fili's voice said from behind, and over her. "It's a long ride to Bree. You'll end up with muscle cramps."
"Oh," Bilba's voice sounded high pitched and a little tight and her face got even hotter. She was going to die of embarrassment, that was it. She'd go down in history books for it. "We wouldn't want that."
"Are you all right?" Fili asked. "If you want, you can ride, and I'll walk alongside."
Bilba's eyes, impossibly, widened further and her entire body went cold. She could just imagine how that would look, making a crown prince walk while she rode. Thorin was already less than impressed with her. Shaming his nephew like that - he'd not only kick her off the quest but would probably make her walk back home.
"No, it's okay." Carefully, she walked her hands back on the pony's mane, sitting up straighter as she did. Her back met his chest, and she jumped a bit as if she'd just dipped a toe into a particularly cold pool. Then, she took a deep breath, gathered all her courage, and sat up all the way.
Her back was now pressed fully against his chest and she could feel the inside of his thighs and legs where they ran along the outside of hers. The presence of his armor, heavy coat, belt, boots and weapons straps helped a little but, still.
Closet. She'd. Ever. Been. To. A. Male.
His arms appeared on either side of her and, a moment later, she felt him kick his heels against the pony and make a clicking noise. The pony jumped forward into a trot to catch up to the others, and Bilba was forced back harder into him.
At this rate, she'd die from sheer mortification long before they got anywhere near the mountain, or the dragon that supposedly lay within.
Fingers snapped in front of her face and Bilba jumped. In front of her, Dwalin gave her an exasperated look. "Next time I'm going to throw something at you."
"Next time I'll throw it back," Bilba retorted sharply. She scowled, eyes catching on Thorin where he was trying to hurry everyone up through sheer force of will. "I can't believe he ever allowed me to go in the first place. I was about as useful as a sack of rocks."
Dwalin chuckled. "Don't imagine he had much choice."
Bilba found that hard to believe. Thorin had never had a single problem making his own will known, and particularly to Gandalf who'd been the entire reason she'd been along to begin with.
Movement caught her attention and, without thinking, she looked toward the doorway of Bag End, just in time to get a square eyeful of the Crown Prince of Erebor striding down the steps.
For a second, just a split second, her heart stopped, and her breath caught in her throat because it was him. Exactly as he had been, exactly as her memories painted him. Her heart leapt in her chest, her mind shouted with happiness and she almost, almost did exactly what Dwalin had claimed he thought she'd do.
Then, as if sensing her gaze, he turned his eyes toward her, empty of warmth or even a hint of recognition, and the dream shattered. A searing, sharp pain lanced straight through her but before it could splinter the broken parts of her into even smaller pieces it suddenly veered and went into an emotion even she couldn't have predicted.
Rage.
It flooded her veins before she even registered it was happening, and well after she'd have had any chance of resisting it.
How dare he? How dare he look like her One? How dare he dress the same and walk the same and look the same and have the same eyes, but not be him?
It was utterly and entirely irrational, and she knew it but couldn't stop it. It wasn't his fault, and she knew that too, but still couldn't stop it.
She was hurting. She'd been hurting, for such a long time and the only thing that had kept her going was the thought of getting to see him again and now she had, and it wasn't him.
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes once again, but this time they were from the sheer force of the anger coursing through her. She wanted to scream, shout, and break something all at once.
Instead she dug her nails into her palms until the skin split, swallowed past the rock lodged in her throat, and wrenched her eyes away from him. She didn't care what he thought, what any of them thought.
She strode to her pony, slid a foot into the stirrup and easily pulled herself into the saddle. The animal shied a bit under her, sidestepping, but she stayed with it, gathering the reins in one hand and pulling the animal to a stop.
Dwalin was beside her on his own pony, studying her with an expression that almost crossed the line into sympathy.
"Don't," she almost snarled. "Just don't."
At the front of the line, Thorin mounted his own pony, Gandalf, next to him, and gave the order to move out. He was riding beside Thorin on one side with Balin near him on the other. Bilba moved her pony in behind them and felt, more than saw, Dwalin fall in alongside her.
The princes, she knew, would be riding in the back, at the very end of the line, which was fine with her.
The less she saw of him, of either of them, the better.