Bilba pushed her way through throngs of celebrating men, elves and dwarves. She paused only long enough to ask the occasional elf or man if they'd seen Bard, Thranduil or Prince Legolas and upon hearing a negative answer, continued her trek.

Once the fighting had thinned out Beorn and Glorfindel had returned and picked her up. Dwalin and Dain had chosen to stay behind and Glorfindel had also leapt off and vanished into the remnants of the battle before she could think to say anything about Mirkwood.

Dain had helped her onto Beorn's back. As he'd done so Dwalin had stepped up as though he wished to say something to her but Bilba had turned away.

She'd heard what he'd said to Dain. He admitted he should have stood up for her alongside Fili and Kili. He'd understood Thorin wasn't in his right mind.

In many ways, the admission made the feeling of betrayal worse, igniting the first spark of anger where, before, there had only been grief and pain. It hadn't been a mistake. It hadn't been a misunderstanding. Dwalin had known exactly what he was doing and had chosen to leave her, Fili and Kili to face Thorin's wrath alone.

She supposed, now that her eyes had been opened so to speak, she could understand it. She was the outsider. She didn't belong. Of course he and the rest of the Company were going to pick Thorin over her.

Still, though, it was one thing for them to have betrayed her. It was something else entirely to have stood by and done nothing while Thorin banished his own nephews.

Thorin. Her gut clenched at the mere thought of his name. She was starting to feel anger toward him as well. After all, where did he get off saying she was a sorcerer and had bewitched Fili and Kili? It wasn't enough he called her a traitor and a liar?

That was only one part of it, though. When it came to Thorin her emotions were a mess. There was pain and hurt, betrayal, anger.

And there was fear.

So, so much fear, and it grew in intensity with every passing moment. Her hand went to her stomach, resting on the curve there. Then her mind went to Thorin. Thorin, who was a King and now had a Kingdom to go with the title. Thorin with his army and his weapons and his servants so blindly loyal they would follow him even when they knew he was wrong.

She wanted to go home.

Before she could no longer hide her pregnancy.

Before he found out.

Before he came to take her children from her.

A voice called her name and she turned, breathing a sigh of relief as she saw Legolas coming toward her. The Elven Prince was covered in blood and grime, his clothes torn in various places but he moved easily and without pain.

He came to a stop in front of her. "Bilba," he said in surprise, "I'd heard you'd returned and were looking for me and my father. What happened? Why didn't you stay in Mirkwood?"

Bilba took a deep breath and told him everything that had happened at the elven palace as quickly and succinctly as she could. As she did she saw his eyes widen in shock, his entire body straightening as though she'd physically struck him.

Once she'd finished speaking, he swallowed hard, his hands clenched in fists. Then he simply nodded. "Come on. We need to find my father."

He strode away and Bilba hurried after him.

The elves were far more willing to answer their prince than a small, oddly dressed hobbit, and they were soon directed back out onto the battlefield itself.

Bilba stayed next to Legolas and tried as best she could not to look but it was nearly impossible not to see the horror. There were bodies everywhere, piles of them jumbled together like dolls tossed carelessly on the floor. The rain had finally stopped but the ground was so saturated that large puddles and small rivers ran about the field, most of them tinged red.

They entered the ruins of Dale. It was harder to navigate there as the rubble had caused the bodies to be even more densely packed. Several times Legolas had to help her scramble around, or over, mounds of the dead.

Elves, men and dwarves moved through them, sectioning out the wounded and taking them back to the camps. The wounded were everywhere, their eyes tight with pain, hands out to her as she passed, asking for help. Everyone needed help though, here and in Mirkwood. She pointed searchers to the wounded as best she could, assured those crying for help that it would soon arrive, and pressed on.

They found Thranduil speaking to Bard under the shadow of a destroyed pavilion. As she neared them, she could tell the two sported injuries but neither seemed serious enough to threaten their lives.

"Father," Legolas called out. Thranduil and Bard both turned. Bard physically jerked at the sight of her.

"Bilba." He walked toward her. "What are you doing here?"

Bilba took a deep breath and stepped up to both Bard and Thranduil. For the second time she recounted everything that had happened in Mirkwood, from the fire to the fall of the palace.

Unlike his son, who wore his emotions openly, Thranduil's reaction was to simply grow stiller, his face perfectly blank.

He turned his gaze to Legolas and, when he spoke, Bilba almost would have thought he sounded bored.

"We'll leave immediately."

"The Men will go with you," Bard said. "Our people are there as well. As are my children."

Thranduil nodded and then strode away.

Legolas hesitated and smiled at Bilba, though it was tense. "He's really angry. The orcs will regret setting foot in Mirkwood."

"Of that I have no doubt," Bilba said with a weak smile.

Legolas looked at Bard for a moment and Bilba saw the man give a slight nod of acknowledgement. After that the Prince strode away to join his father.

Bilba expected Bard to take his leave as well but, somewhat to her surprise, he stayed.

"Don't feel you have to stay on my account," Bilba offered, ignoring the way her gut twisted at the thought of being left alone with nothing but the dead for company. "I'm sure you're in a hurry. I'd just slow you down."

He frowned. "What do you plan to do now?"

She shrugged, turning her gaze to a bit of rubble near her feet. "I plan to go home. You already know there's no place for me here."

Bard sat down on the piece of rubble she'd been staring at, leaning forward to catch her gaze. "Oakenshield should be ashamed. Even if you hadn't come halfway across Middle Earth to aid a cause that wasn't your own, just the fact he's treating a young woman so poorly…it's dishonorable."

He didn't mention her pregnancy, for which she was grateful.

"It is what it is," she said, her voice quiet. She raised her head. "I thought I'd follow your groups to Mirkwood. I'd like to see that your children are alright." She grinned. "Speaking of which, I think you deserve a medal for your parenting skills. Your children are a credit to you."

Bard looked embarrassed. "My wife made a good start. Anything I did merely built off what she'd already instilled in them."

Bilba smiled. "She must have been lovely."

Bard nodded. "She was." He studied her. "What will you do, after Mirkwood?"

"Find my way home," Bilba said. She clasped her hands together. The temperature was still low, a sharp breeze winding through the collapsed columns, bringing with it the promise of yet more rain.

"We're heading into winter," Bard said, his eyes narrowed. "It won't be safe to travel."

"I don't have a choice," Bilba whispered. The fear started to grow again. If she stayed much longer it might just choke her. "The longer I'm here the harder it will be to hide the pregnancy from Thorin. If he finds out-"

"You're afraid of him." Bard sounded both startled and saddened.

"I am," Bilba said. "He's been spreading the word that I've bewitched his nephews and I already know he thinks I'm a liar, thief and traitor. What do you think he'll do when he finds out I'm carrying his children?"

Bard stood up and Bilba flinched in surprise.

Stepping forward he crouched down, putting himself on eye level with her. "You went back for my children and did your utmost to protect them in Mirkwood. The least I can do is return the favor. I will see to it you get back home, if I have to deliver you there myself."

"You can't do that," Bilba gasped. "The Master is dead. The men look to you. They need you."

He shrugged and stood up. "There are others who can take my place." He grinned down at her. "Besides, I've always tried to be a man my children can look up to. How do you think they would look at me if I allowed a small woman to head off alone, in winter, trying to find her home?"

Bilba swallowed hard, her eyes burning. She nodded shakily, not trusting herself to speak.

"Come on," Bard said, indicating the route she'd taken to get there. "What do you say we get out of here? I'm a bit tired of the scent of death."

Bilba felt a massive sense of relief, so intense she nearly staggered.

She would go home, but she wouldn't have to go alone.

The healing tents had been set up as near the gates of Erebor as possible to try and protect them from the battle. Currently there was a lot of activity as men and elves rushed back and forth to get ready to depart. They were leaving the supplies and equipment and a number of healers were staying to deal with the injured elves and men who would also be left behind but, as a whole, the area would soon primarily be dwarven.

Thorin would no doubt be ecstatic, Bilba thought.

She found the tent she wanted easily enough, it was the one with the two burly looking dwarven guards stationed out front.

The two burly guards who completely missed the hobbit that slipped in behind their backs.

Inside the tent looked much the same as the last one she'd been in with rows of cots separated by thin curtains. Most of the beds were filled and healers bustled about, creating a scene of barely organized chaos.

Bilba made her way through carefully, studying the faces of each person as she passed. Finally, near the back of the tent, she found what she was looking for.

Someone had taken down the curtain between Fili and Kili and pushed their beds closer together. Fili was stripped to the waist, thick, bandages wound around his torso. He'd been cleaned up from the muck and mire of the battle and, aside from being far too pale still, looked better than the last time she'd seen him. Several blankets had been bundled around him and Bilba found herself offering a silent prayer that he didn't get sick from being so exposed to the elements.

Kili lay on his side on his own cot, eyes fixed on his brother. Bilba stopped at the foot of his bed and stood hesitantly, unwilling to disturb him.

Eventually Kili must have felt her eyes on him because he turned suddenly to look and immediately grinned in obvious relief.

"Bilba! There you are!" He struggled to a sitting position and she hurried to help him, sitting on the edge of the bed. Like his brother, he'd been cleaned up as well, and it occurred to her suddenly how filthy she was in contrast.

"Oh," She said, jerking her hands off him and starting to rise. "I'm so sorry! I'm going to get you dirty again."

"Nonsense," Kili said, tightening his grip and pulling her back down. "It's fine. How are you?"

"I'm alright," Bilba said. She felt a knot inside her loosen at the sight of clarity back in his eyes, a sharpness that hadn't been there the last time she'd spoken to him on the edge of the Spires.

"Good," Kili said. He frowned. "What happened to you? When I came to you were gone. Next thing I remember is Beorn charging back up with you. How'd you get away from the Spires?"

"It doesn't matter," Bilba said quietly. "How's Fili?"

His eyes narrowed, aware she was blatantly changing the subject but he let it go, his eyes going to his brother and softening. "They think he's going to be okay. Bard's children did an amazing job. If they hadn't done what they did he probably wouldn't have survived."

"That's such a relief," Bilba said. She hesitated. "What about Thorin and the others?"

"Everyone's alive," Kili said shortly, his eyes darkening. "Few broken bones, cuts and other things. Fili's the worst off by far." He hesitated, his eyes cutting past her for a moment. "Uncle will be fine. He's still unconscious but they're hoping he'll wake up soon."

Bilba felt a cold feeling settle in the pit of her stomach. She turned, following his gaze, and saw a section twenty feet or so away that had been completely partitioned off. "He's back there?"

Kili nodded and then flinched in surprise as Bilba got to her feet. "It's alright; he's not even awake yet."

"But he will be soon." Bilba wrung her hands, her panic rising. "And I'd rather not be here. I just wanted to make sure you and Fili were okay."

Well, that and say good-bye but she wasn't going to tell him that. He'd insist on going with her, citing the selfish promise she'd dragged out of him, and it would tear him apart to have to leave Fili. She wouldn't do that to him.

"I heard that Thorin doesn't blame you and Fili for taking my side," She said now. "He thinks I've bewitched you. I'm sure he'll accept you both back."

Kili stared at her. "Why does it sound like there's an implied 'when I'm gone' in there?"

Bilba mentally kicked herself. She'd always been bad at things like this. "That's not what I meant," she lied, hoping desperately her lying skills had improved. "I just meant he didn't blame you. He blamed me."

"I don't care," a new voice said groggily. "It doesn't change anything."

Bilba's head whipped around almost as fast as Kili's. Fili's eyes were open, his face creased with pain he hadn't felt while unconscious.

Kili nearly lunged off his own cot, jumping to his brother's side. Bilba lost sight of Fili as Kili sat down.

Bilba backed up a step, watching the two. She should move forward, she knew. Talk to them, extend the last few moments she'd have with them.

It was highly unlikely she'd ever see them again.

Her throat tightened and the scene blurred as her eyes watered. Quickly she turned and made her way back to the front of the tent. The armies were already moving out. She'd waited until the last second on purpose. She knew that, had she had more time, she'd have lingered far too long.

It would have simply made it harder.

Struggling to control herself, she exited the tent to see Bard waiting a few feet away, holding the reigns of a horse. Around him, and the tents, a slow exodus had started. The elves and men were exhausted, wounded, traumatized. It wasn't an army marching toward Mirkwood, it was a refugee camp.

Bard helped her onto the horse and then pulled himself up behind her. A few minutes later they were part of the trek, heading to Mirkwood.

Bilba shut her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing, fighting against sobs that threatened to wrench their way out of her throat.

It was through sheer force of will that she didn't look back.

The first sob finally broke through when they passed under the first trees of Mirkwood.

Bard wrapped an arm around her from behind and simply held her while she cried.

They ran into orcs almost as soon as they entered the forest, though not nearly as many as Bilba would have expected. The army made quick work of them and moved on in silence, to weary to celebrate even so small a victory.

When they neared the palace Thranduil separated them into groups, placing some into a blockade around his home while choosing others to go in with him. As he neared Bilba he frowned at her and said, "You should stay out here. I will not have one in your condition threatened when there is no need."

There was no cruelty in his voice, only the same seeming disinterest he always had. Remembering what Legolas had said, however, about him being angry when she'd noticed nothing, she decided to stop assuming she knew what he thought.

"I will," she said. "Thank you."

He nodded and moved off. Bard dismounted and helped her down, setting her up near the back of the line but still well surrounded by soldiers. He frowned at her, clearly upset at the prospect of leaving her. "You'll be alright?"

Bilba nodded. "I will. You should go find your children."

"She'll be fine," a new voice said. "I'll keep an eye on her while you're gone."

Glorfindel pushed through the crowd and sat down next to her. Well, collapsed might have been a more apt description for what he did but Bilba decided the polite thing to do would be to ignore that.

Bard didn't look convinced and Bilba couldn't blame him. Glorfindel looked terrible. His armor was rent in places, actually torn like it had been fabric instead of metal. He was so covered in blood and gore that his hair was nearly black instead of platinum and he swayed slightly where he sat.

His eyes narrowed at them. "Stop staring at me like that. I can still fight if needed."

"Of that I have no doubt," Bilba said quietly. She moved forward and sat down next to him, so close they were nearly touching. She smiled at Bard. "Go on. We'll be fine."

Bard gave an unsure nod and then went to join the others as they headed toward the palace.

After they were gone, Bilba hesitated and then turned to Glorfindel. "Did you see if anyone retrieved Gandalf?"

Pain lanced through her at the thought of his body left out in the open. He deserved better than that.

He gave her a tired smile. "Don't worry, little one." He looked away, his gaze set. "He was my friend too. I'll see to it that he's taken care of."

"Ok." She hesitated and then asked, "Did the Witch King do all that to you?" She indicated his armor.

He snorted. "Some of it. I ran into his eight friends before I finally found him. It was a…surprise to say the least."

All nine, Bilba thought in shock. He'd taken on all nine Nazgul and lived.

"Gandalf came to my aid," Glorfindel continued. "After we were able to drive them off we went after the Witch King. You saw the end of that encounter."

Bilba studied her hands, idly picking at the encrusted blood under her nails. "So is it true then? That Sauron has returned? I was hoping maybe just somehow the Witch King was causing problems on his own."

He sighed. "He has, though at the moment I suspect he is not yet back to his full strength. We still have time."

Bilba thought back to the army that had marched on Erebor. That was Sauron not at full strength? What would happen when he did reach his full power?

A shudder ran through her and she rested a hand lightly on her stomach, it was quickly becoming a new habit. This news was all the more reason for her to go home. The farther from Mordor she was the safer her children would be.

Glorfindel gave her a sidelong look. "If you don't mind my asking, what are you doing here? I would have thought you'd be back with your dwarven friends."

Bilba gave a bitter laugh. "Turns out they weren't my friends after all." She sighed and, in a low voice, staring at her hands the entire time, she told him…everything. He gave no reaction as she spoke. He simply sat next to her and listened.

When she was finished he reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You carry a heavy burden for one so young."

Bilba laughed. "I don't feel young."

"That," Glorfindel said, "I understand." He shifted, finding a better position. "I need to return to Rivendell. I'll take you with me." He settled back on his hands. "It won't be as hard as you think. Winter is on its way but the climate is more temperate in your part of the world, it won't be as bad the further we go. We can also take the Gladden River Pass, it will keep us low enough to avoid the snow at the peaks."

He continued, outlining their journey as though it were a simply walk in the countryside.

Bilba felt her lower lip starting to tremble again and she tangled her hands in her skirt, struggling to regain her control.

She was not going to start crying every time someone was nice to her for goodness sakes.

"Thank you," she whispered. That was two offers of help where she'd never expected a single one. Glorfindel escorting her meant Bard could remain behind with his children and the people who needed him. Glorfindel would also have more experience with the journey. She wasn't sure if Bard had ever traveled much farther than Mirkwood and would never forgive herself if he was injured trying to take her home.

His only response was to smile and wrap an arm around her shoulders.

As it turned out there was little left to be done in the palace.

Aragorn was apparently a natural born leader, and more than slightly crazy when it came to battle, and had rallied the remaining elves against the orcs. Together they'd driven them from the palace almost entirely so that by the time Thranduil entered with his soldiers the orcs had been caught, and subsequently crushed, between the two forces.

Bilba and the others were allowed inside after that. Bard found his children among the rest of the Lake-town survivors, alive and unharmed.

Thranduil, much to Bilba's surprise, assigned her massive private quarters. Bilba's first priority upon getting them was to head to the bath house. She spent over an hour in the heated pool, scrubbing until her skin was raw, but clean. She cleaned her clothing as best she could. It didn't look all that great when she was done but it was serviceable and all she had, so it would have to do.

After that she returned to her room and slept for sixteen hours, waking up to a ravenous hunger that let her know her children would much appreciate food.

She stayed in Mirkwood for two weeks as Glorfindel needed time himself to recover.

Bilba spent the time helping clean the palace and repair the damage done by the invasion. She heard word the destruction outside caused by the fire was massive but, with time, would also heal.

About a week into her stay she returned to her room to find three brand new outfits laid out on her bed. Pants, shirts, cloaks and heavy boots, made for travel during winter. Bilba was so excited she shrieked and jumped up and down. She wasted no time stripping off the dress and coat and putting the new clothing on. It fit perfectly and, as she studied the fabric, she noted it was designed to be let out, meaning she'd be able to wear it even as her pregnancy progressed.

The next time she saw Glorfindel he commented on being glad he'd gotten the sizes right when ordering the clothing and she'd responded by hugging him for fifteen minutes straight.

The two weeks passed quickly, and happily much to Bilba's surprise. She was rarely alone. Glorfindel, Legolas, Aragorn, Bard or his children were often in her company and she spent many hours in pleasant conversation with them. She reclaimed her ring from Tilda and threaded it on a chain around her neck, replacing the ring belonging to Thorin that had once rested there.

She usually ate her meals with all of them, plus Thranduil. As she spent more time with the elven king she began to understand she had indeed misjudged him. Though he had his faults, as everyone did, it was clear he was an excellent king and a deeply involved father. Just the way he looked at his son when he thought no one saw told her all she felt she'd ever need to know about him.

Near the end of the two weeks she ended up telling Aragorn about her pregnancy. He was the only one of her new group to not know and she felt bad keeping him in the dark. She also, by that time, found she trusted him enough to keep silent and not let the news get back to Thorin or Erebor.

That was the only real negative part about her stay in Mirkwood. She held a constant fear that, every passing day brought the risk of Thorin, who was no doubt awake, finding out and coming after her.

As much as she enjoyed her time in the palace of the elven king she needed to leave, and quickly.

Bilba took a deep breath and smoothed down the edges of her coat. It was the one Kili had given her back at Erebor. It still held stains she'd been unable to get out and was frayed and patched in places. It looked out of place over her new clothes but she'd found it hard to give up. When she'd awakened in Erebor her weapons had been gone, meaning the coat was all she had left of the dwarves.

Well, her mind supplied, aside from the babies she now carried. That was a pretty big thing they'd left with her. She giggled at the glaring oversight and picked up her pack. The elves had provided them with ponies and supplies to get them home and had also sent word ahead so that Rivendell would know to look for them.

She headed to her door and opened it to find Bard and his family standing there.

"Bilba!" Tilda jumped forward and threw her arms around her. "I'm going to miss you!"

Bilba returned the hug. "I'm going to miss you too."

She pulled back and found Sigrid waiting her turn.

"Don't you dare get hurt," Sigrid said, her eyes red. "I'll be really pissed off if you do."

Bilba laughed and hugged her. "I'll do my best."

Bain was next. "Will you write?"

"I will," Bilba said, and she meant it. She would keep in touch. She wanted to keep in touch. Sigrid, Tilda and Bain already knew she was pregnant, mainly because they were too smart for their own good and had demanded to know why it was so vitally important she travel in winter instead of waiting for spring.

Bard knelt in front of her after his children had moved back. His eyes were troubled. "Are you sure about this?"

It bothered him not to be going with her. It had taken her most of the two weeks to convince him he'd be better off staying. The journey home would take a minimum of seven months, far longer if they ended up having to find a safe place to wait out the worst of winter. He couldn't be away from his children or his people that long, especially not at that time. They were homeless and looking toward the coming cold. They needed him.

She hugged him, tangling her hands in the back of his coat. Bard and his children had become important to her in just the short time she'd known them and they would be facing hardships every bit as challenging as the ones ahead of her. All of them had been there for her at vital times when she needed someone.

He hugged her back, arms going around her waist and tightening as though he feared it would be the last time he would see her.

She prayed it was not.

Pulling back, she smiled at him. "I'll be alright. Thranduil has more than supplied us for the journey and I'll have probably the best escorts anyone could want."

Aragorn had announced he would be going with them as well. He needed to return to Rivendell anyway and, as he'd told her, it was his sworn duty to protect her people, no matter where they were.

"Aragorn's a Ranger," she said now, putting her hands on Bard's shoulders. "If anyone knows about surviving outside it's him and Glorfindel has thousands of years of experience. I couldn't be safer."

Bard nodded. "I will miss you."

"I'll miss you too," Bilba whispered. "I'll write when I'm home."

He nodded. They both knew it would be a long, long time before she was in any position to write meaning his worry for her was only just beginning.

She wouldn't deny she wasn't worried herself. The journey would be difficult and, in addition to that, the speculation that her pregnancy would last a total of eighteen months was just that, speculation. She could literally give birth any time between twelve months, the duration of a hobbit pregnancy, and twenty-four, the duration of a dwarven pregnancy.

If the pregnancy did last the eighteen months, even if they were delayed, if they had to winter somewhere before moving on…she was five months already, heading rapidly into her sixth. If her pregnancy did last a full eighteen months it meant she had thirteen months left, plenty of time to get home even with travel delays.

If, however, the Healer had been wrong and her pregnancy came to term sooner…at minimum, assuming they were able to make it home in just seven months, she'd be twelve months pregnant. If the babies had been fully hobbit she'd be due. She imagined it would be somewhat longer since they were half dwarven, but how much longer? What if she were only pregnant fourteen months? Or fifteen? Not only that, but the simple progression of her pregnancy at all would slow her down. How large would she get? How easily would she be able to handle travel?

She took a deep breath, trying to still the constant worries swirling inside her, and stepped forward. Bard and his family followed behind her.

The faster they got going the better.

She wanted to give birth at home, not on the road.

Thranduil and Legolas were waiting for her at the gates, much as they had done the last time she'd left. That time she'd been surrounded by those she'd thought loved her, and by one in particular she'd loved most of all.

Now she walked with Bard, his children, and the empty spots in her heart where a Company of dwarves had once resided.

She stopped in front of the King and his son and carefully dropped to one knee before them, bowing her head with ease.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "You have given me sanctuary when I desperately needed it and asked for nothing in return. I will forever be in your debt."

Legolas knelt in front of her, took her hands and raised her back up. "Friends need not bow before one another," he said, his voice formal. He glanced at his father who, somewhat to Bilba's surprise, gave a slight nod of his head in acknowledgement.

Legolas grinned and hugged her. Bilba returned it, her grip tight. The closer she came to leaving the more fear she found ready and willing to attack her at any moment. Fears of the journey, her pregnancy, Thorin finding out…and the reception she would face at home.

That one had always been there to some extent but it had been so far in the future she'd been able to ignore it.

She wouldn't be able to ignore it much longer. She already knew what happened to young girls in the Shire who unexpectedly turned up pregnant with no husband, or even beau, in sight. How much worse, she wondered, would it be for her? Running off into the wild with a group of complete strangers, all male, only to return alone and pregnant?

Valar, what had she been thinking?

She pulled back and saw Legolas studying her, his eyes narrowed with concern. Suddenly, he turned to his father and said, "I think friends also do not let friends make dangerous journeys without them. I want to go with her."

"Legolas!" Bilba said, gripping his forearms. "That's not necessary!"

He rolled his eyes. "I know it's not necessary," he said with a grin, "but I wouldn't have to spend the next however many months worrying about you if I'm actually with you at the time." He shrugged. "Besides, I haven't been to Rivendell in some time and I do have distant kin there. Might as well go visit them."

Thranduil shook his head. "You are as impulsive as I was at that age. Very well, you may go if you wish." His eyes turned to Bilba. "I do wish you safe passage, Bilba."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Bilba said.

The guards threw open the gates and she walked out into the early morning sun. Glorfindel and Aragorn stood at the top of the steps waiting for her. As she came out, Aragorn grinned at her and said, "You have a couple of visitors, Bilba."

Bilba blinked in confusion and a spike of fear raced through her. "What?"

The two stepped aside, allowing her to see straight down the steps. At the base stood Beorn in bear form…and next to him…

Bilba shrieked and ran down the stairs, flinging herself into Kili's arms so hard she physically knocked him back a step.

He laughed and wrapped both arms around her.

A hand fell on her shoulder and Bilba disengaged in order to turn and, much more gently, wrap her arms around Fili. He was still pale, and somewhat haggard looking, but much of the life and vibrancy had returned to him and one only had to look at the cheer Kili carried to know how much better Fili was doing.

Bilba pulled back and went to Beorn, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his fur.

After a few minutes she pulled back and asked, "What are you doing here?"

"What are we doing here?" Fili answered. "What are you doing here? It took two weeks for those blasted healers to finally let me out and we spent every second worrying you'd set off for the Shire completely alone! Do you have any idea how worried we were?"

Bilba flinched. "I'm sorry. I told you that Thorin didn't blame you. I thought, if I left, he'd accept you back in. You could go home."

Kili rolled his eyes. "As soon as you told us that we demanded to be put in a different tent, as far from Uncle as possible."

"He tried to talk to us later," Fili said, "but we refused to see him. Neither of us wanted to hear anything about how we weren't responsible for our own actions."

Bilba tensed, pressing back into Beorn. "Thorin's awake?"

Fili studied her and she saw his gaze soften. "For the most part. He picked up a pretty nasty cold a day or two after the battle and has been bedridden inside Erebor ever since."

"It worked out well for us," Kili piped in. "He didn't bother us again. The rest of the Company stayed away too, probably assuming we'd refuse to see them as well."

"And they'd be right," Fili muttered. He scowled at her. "Anyway, the second I was deemed well enough to move we left. We were afraid you'd been on the road for upwards of two weeks, alone."

"We stopped here first," Kili broke in, "and they said you were here and about to leave." He sighed, his eyes fixed on her. "We really were worried, Bilba. You know I swore to stay with you. Why did you leave?"

"Because I was afraid of Thorin," Bilba said, tears threatening at the back of her eyes. "And the longer I stayed the less I'd be able to hide and Fili was so hurt and I didn't want to force you to choose between him and me, it wasn't fair…"

She stopped talking as Kili took a step forward and wrapped his arms around her again. "Idiot," he muttered, "You could have told us. We'd have come joined you as soon as we were able."

"I'm sorry," Bilba said, her voice breaking on a sob. "I didn't want you to have to choose."

Fili sighed, stepping up next to her. "And who's the one always getting so angry when choice is denied her? We're adults, Bilba, just like you. Let us make our own decisions."

Bilba nodded and turned to hug him again. Finally, she stepped back and faced Beorn. "Do you want to yell at me too?"

He looked at her a moment and then stepped up and calmly licked her right across the face.

"I would take that as a no," Fili said dryly, then yelped as Aragorn, walking past him to load his horse, smacked him on the back of the head. "What was that for?"

"Making her cry," Aragorn said dryly.

Fili started to protest, then stopped and shrugged. "Fair enough."

They loaded up quickly after that. Bilba started to head toward her pony only to give her own yelp of surprise as Fili swept her up in his arms and set her on Beorn's back.

At her questioning look he said, "His home is on the way so he's going with us awhile."

"Really?" Leaning forward, Bilba hugged the giant shapeshifter again. "I'm so glad!"

Beorn made a sound that she assumed meant he felt the same.

A few minutes later everyone was ready. Aragorn and Legolas rode at the front, Bilba and Beorn behind them with Legolas, Fili and Kili ranged around her.

"It's like the Company of Bilba Baggins," Kili said with a grin.

Bilba grimaced. "Not Company." She frowned, biting her lip as she studied them. "Fellowship," she said finally.

"The Fellowship of Bilba Baggins," Legolas said. "I like it."

Bilba grinned. Her eyes went over her friends gathered around her. More in the form of Thranduil, Bard and his children stood on the steps to see them off. All of them loved her and she loved them all in turn.

Her hand went to her stomach, resting lightly on the small bulge there.

There was still pain, hurt and anger over what the Company had done to her. There was still fear over what Thorin might still do if he found out she carried his children. There was still the anxiety over her pregnancy, the journey, and what would happen once she arrived back home.

But, for now, there was the proof right before her eyes that, for every loss she'd suffered, she'd also gained.

She turned to face the path before her and found Aragorn studying her.

She smiled at him and he turned and signaled for them to move out.

Fili said something to Kili that had him laughing and Legolas moved up a little to speak to Glorfindel.

Bilba moved and shifted until she found way lying on her back, the movement of Beorn's shoulders under her soothing. The voices of her friends flowed around her and, overhead, the sun shone down through breaks in the trees.

She sighed and shut her eyes, resting her hands on her stomach.

Things weren't perfect but she was safe, she was content, and she was going home.

It was enough.

In the midst of a dead land lay a ruined tower. Orcs swarmed over it like maggots, clearing rubble and shoring up ruined walls. Bit by bit the tower grew, reaching toward the sky like an evil hand grasping to blot out the sun.

A lone orc scuttled across a thin bridge leading inside. He was one of the few survivors of the battle at Erebor, sent back alone to report news of Mordor's defeat.

For a time there was no reaction from within the tower.

Then a sound started, slow at first but quickly gaining in strength and intensity. It roared through broken halls, vibrated through fallen stone and echoed endlessly into the sky.

It was a scream of pure rage, hatred, and anger. It flowed through the air in an almost physical waves.

The orcs in the tower quivered and shook with fear.

In the white city, people stopped as their hearts jumped with fear.

As far as Erebor dwarves, elves and men found themselves stopping in their tracks as an unexplained chill ran up their spines.

Deep within Mirkwood.

Under the silent branches of cursed and dying trees.

Around the throat of a small and gentle Hobbit.

A gold ring stirred.