Time slowed, and the world faded. Sound grew distorted as if she were hearing it from under water. It felt almost as if she'd just stepped away into some other room and was watching the world from a closed window inside it.

"Bilba!"

Fili's worried shout permeated the fog shrouding her, and Bilba jerked with a sharp gasp. The world snapped back into focus, and the shrieks of enraged orcs were suddenly loud in her ears.

The pain started slowly, a dull throb that soon changed to an intense, burning sensation. Sweat broke out on her skin and she began to shiver. Nausea spread through her and a wave of dizziness washed over her, causing her to sway on her feet. Her hand, pressed to the area around the hilt of the knife, grew slick and she could feel wetness spreading through the fabric of her shirt.

"Bilba!" Fili shouted again, turned halfway back from the orcs currently trying to kill him. Kili stepped in to cover him, but there was no way he could do it all by himself. "Are you all right?"

He hadn't seen what happened, Bilba realized, and the angle she stood at hid the knife from him.

"I'm fine," she managed to call back. Telling him would serve no purpose. Kili needed him, and they had left the supply packs behind, so they didn't have any sort of first aid supplies.

Fili turned back, getting his sword up in time to block an orc trying to decapitate him. Several others were trying to find ways around the brothers and, given the number of orcs versus the number of dwarves, it was only a matter of time before they succeeded.

Another wave of dizziness and she swayed again, gritting her teeth against a groan of pain. If she didn't get a move on, the orcs wouldn't matter.

She turned toward the entrance into the mountain, where Lily was still watching her with cold eyes.

Swallowing down a suddenly dry throat, Bilba stumbled forward. She left the knife in, hoping it would help staunch the flow of blood just a little, but every movement caused it to shift, sending sharp, biting arrows of pain shooting through her.

Her legs felt heavy, and if it weren't for the fact she was already up the worst of the slope, she probably wouldn't have made it.

"You're going to die," Lily said simply as Bilba managed to stagger up onto the ledge leading into the mountain. A wave of heat washed over her from the doorway, but didn't touch the shivers wracking her body.

"Shut up," Bilba said through gritted teeth. "I'm not failing now. Not when I've come so far."

"You are failing now," Lily corrected, falling in alongside her as Bilba staggered toward the entrance. "But you don't have to."

Bilba ignored her and kept moving, knowing she'd never start again if she stopped. She was growing steadily weaker, almost constantly dizzy now with the world going in and out of focus. Her shirt was soaked with blood and she could feel drops of it hitting her feet as she stumbled forward.

She reached the entrance, and the heat nearly knocked her off her feet.

"You're being foolish," Lily said casually from beside her. "None of this has to happen. You could go home right now, back to your sons."

"And then what?" Bilba muttered. "I live with them until Sauron marches on the Shire and burns it to the ground?"

"Not necessarily." Lily tilted her head at an almost unnatural angle. "Why not just keep the ring for yourself? Then you wouldn't have to worry about Sauron, or anyone else."

Bilba froze, and stared at the thing next to her with a slowly dawning horror.

It didn't seem to notice. "Your sons would be safe."

"You're the ring," Bilba said flatly. "You're trying to save yourself."

She should have known, she thought bitterly. She'd been getting used to the mental and physical torture the thing had been trying to inflict on her. It had realized it was losing its effectiveness and had changed tactics, coming at her from an angle she'd never expected.

"I'm trying to save both of us." A shadow passed over the small apparition, and suddenly Fili was standing there, skin gray and a look of exhaustion in his eyes. A second shift and then it was Kili, haggard, worn and haunted. "What about them? Will you leave them to die?"

Bilba's eyes narrowed. "They know what they're doing. They won't die."

The thing laughed, and it was a twisted parody of Kili's laugh. "And if they do?"

"Then they'll have died saving the world," Bilba said through clenched teeth, "and I won't waste that sacrifice."

The thing had already delayed her, made her stop in her tracks, and she mentally cursed at having allowed it. With a supreme effort, she managed to force herself forward, more falling than walking but moving forward all the same.

The area inside the mountain was sweltering. Even the rock under her feet was hot, and she could feel it scorching the soles of her feet. Her feet were made to clamber over rocks and plains, not fire. Ahead of her the rock narrowed to a bridge over a deep chasm. Not the sort of thing she'd normally be okay with but, in this case she supposed getting stabbed and having the ring annoying her were blessings in disguise.

She really had nothing left with which to worry over the lack of handrails, not that it surprised her. If there was one place in all of Middle Earth that there wouldn't be handrails, it'd be the seat of all evil.

"You're being foolish," a familiar baritone said, and she gasped as Thorin was suddenly walking next to her.

Not that it was truly him, as much as she wished it were. This Thorin's skin was gray and his eyes were set so deep they were little more than black holes sunk in his face. A brutal looking wound crossed diagonally across his face, crusted over and flaked with dried blood.

"You precious lover is already dead," the doppelganger said, "You could have saved him, had you simply stopped being stubborn and accepted my power."

"You don't know that he's dead." Bilba wasn't sure why she was bothering talking to the thing, but couldn't seem to stop. The pain from her side and her feet was beginning to fade, which was probably a very bad thing.

"You don't know he's alive," the apparition mocked. It started skipping beside her, which was just weird considering it currently looked like Thorin. "Stop being so stubborn. Take my power, save your friends and world."

Bilba made no comment about the thing's apparent lack of loyalty toward its master, or what that would mean for her if she were stupid enough to trust it. She'd reached where the rock narrowed and could see over the edge into the abyss. At the very bottom was a roiling, red liquid that, given the nearly painful heat coming off it, was probably not something she wanted to fall into.

A wave of dizziness washed over her and her legs suddenly felt like leaden weights. She sagged, and barely managed to jerk herself to the side in time to avoid falling over the edge. She hit the ground on her knees and one hand, the other clasped around her stomach in an empty belief that it was somehow helping. The knife, slick with her blood, slid out just a bit, and she grimaced at the fresh burst of pain. The amount of blood coating her clothing and dripping on the rock below increased and she sighed in resignation.

She wasn't getting out of this, and if she didn't hurry, it would all be for nothing.

Fake Thorin knelt beside her. "You would choose death, when you have life right in front of you?"

"What you're offering isn't life," Bilba whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut, pain throbbing in her temples. She shoved herself forward, trying to get to her feet. It didn't quite work, her body far too heavy to support itself and she staggered, her knees buckling with almost every step. Her stomach was cramping, and she was grateful she hadn't eaten in a while, and then hadn't had much. She didn't have to go far, just enough to ensure the ring wouldn't catch on a ledge as it fell.

Her knees slammed hard into the rock, and she frowned, wondering when she'd fallen. Thorin was sitting next to her and she blinked at him in confusion, watching as he seemed to fade in and out of focus. "When did you get here?"

"Just now," he said, smiling. "You've come a long way."

"Yes," she agreed tiredly.

"You should lie down," he said. "Rest a while. You're no good to anyone exhausted."

Bilba frowned. That sounded right...but not at the same time. She shut her eyes, trying to think through the thudding pain and cotton that seemed to be fighting for dominance in her head. When she opened them again, she could see her hands braced on rock, fingers curled slightly. Red was spread across the back of her hands and she frowned, trying to figure out why that felt important. Had she spilled a bottle of wine?

No. No that wasn't right. That -

"Lie down," Thorin repeated. "You'll feel better when you wake up."

She was already leaning down so far that her forehead was nearly touching the ground. It took very little effort to roll to her side, and collapse heavily on her back.

She stared up at the darkness overhead, frowning. It was so hot. Had she left the stove on? Maybe that was why she was so tired. She'd been making dinner for...for Adalgrim? Fram?

Oh, if that was true, she needed to get cleaned up before they came over. It wouldn't be proper otherwise and she...she needed...she needed...

Her eyes had closed at some point and it was far, far too difficult to drag them open again. She felt sick, she'd probably pushed herself too hard again.

Absently she began to pat her coat, looking for a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off her brow. Her mother would not...be happy...if she...

Her fingers found the small cloth packet in her coat and tugged it out onto her chest. It unraveled as she pulled, and she felt something small fall out and plop onto her chest. She frowned, brows drawing together a bit in confusion, as her fingers lightly toyed with the object, trying to find out what it was.

A ring, her mind told her hazily.

A ring...it...

Bilba's eyes reopened.

Not-Thorin stood over her, looking down at her with an empty expression.

Bilba wrapped her hand around the ring, tight enough she could feel it pressing into the skin of her palm. It was hot, the metal burning the skin of her hand, but she knew better than to lessen her grip.

Instead she allowed her head to fall to the side, studying where the edge of the ledge ended just a few inches away from her.

"You can still survive," Not-Thorin intoned, voice flat. "I can give you everything you've wanted, and more."

Bilba managed to move her head back, studying him through rapidly dimming eyes.

And then she smiled, and began to chuckle.

"There's only one thing I want," she said, voice barely a whisper. "More...than anything...in the world..."

"And what's that?" Not-Thorin asked. "Whatever it is. I can give it to you."

"True enough," Bilba murmured. Her pain was all but gone now and a pleasant feeling of warmth and peace was spreading over her. She locked her eyes on the thing that had been plaguing her, the thing she blamed for taking Adalgrim from his family, and for threatening her own. When she spoke again, her voice was so faint, the words were barely audible and Not-Thorin had to lean over her to hear.

"I want..." Bilba whispered, "you...gone."

And, with that, she slid her arm off her chest. It hit the ground with a thud, and her fingers uncurled. The ring bounced, rolling off her fingers and onto the rock. It clinked against the stone once, twice and, then, with a sharp jump that seemed to freeze it in midair for a brief instance, light sparkling off the metal... it went right over the edge.

"NO!" Not-Thorin screamed, and then he was gone, and Bilba was alone for the first time in a very long time.

She sighed and melted against the stone.

It was really too bad, she thought dully.

She'd have liked to have seen how the story ended, if Thorin and the boys made it.

What kind of adults her own sons would have been.

"Sorry," she whispered, to no one and everyone at the same time.

Then she allowed her eyes to slowly close...

Only to open them again to find herself standing on the pathway outside Bag End.