Author's Note: Hello, here I am again. See, I kept my promise. We find out what is happening with Frodo. Were/are any of you worried about him?
Like I said last chapter, this chapter was meant to be in Arc Four, fairly early on, but I actually wrote most of this chapter around the one year anniversary of this fic, 22nd of March 2014 was when I first wrote down this chapter (as a bit of a booster, you may say, as I was starting to get depressed with this fic around that time, thinking it wasn't getting anywhere and it was just... bad. So I wrote this chapter as a, hey, look this is gonna happen, you just have to keep writing to get there. Buck up and get one with it) and since then I've sort of been dying to put it in and now, finally here it I edited it from what I originally wrote and I'm more or less happy with the end result.
Please enjoy.
Chapter Sixty-Four
By the Edge of a Knife
Bilbo had a headache and as much as she adored both Balin and Ori she would quite happily go without seeing the pair of them for at least a couple of days. It wasn't that they purposefully meant to irritate her within an inch of her life with their repeated questioning, which normally did not bother her a wit but tonight she simply did not have the patience or the will-power to simply repeat rote answers over and over again.
And so after much pleading to be allowed to return to her chambers due to a headache, she was finally free. And she truly was, for she was walking the corridors back to her chambers (which she now knew off by heart) from Balin's private study by herself. Which was unusual, as usually Ori or Balin or maybe even Nori would walk her back to her chambers after one of her sessions with Balin and Ori, but not tonight. Not that she minded one single bit. It was nice to be alone, to have some time to herself, which upon returning to the mountain, she was, as much as she loved being around her dwarves again, sorely missing the hours spent on her own, reading or writing, simply doing her own thing for herself, without having to worry what anyone else was doing or thinking.
She walked down the corridor smiling quietly to herself, relishing in her freedom, even if it was only for a few corridors and the few guards she passed eyed her curiously. But with that said and as lovely as being by herself was, she longed to be in the presence of her son, even if did mean a night spent dealing with snuffles and coughs and constant kicking to her legs. A part of her was certain that he would be asleep by now – she had been very strict with Mira on what were appropriate bedtimes (of which, when Thorin came by for visit were completely thrown out the proverbial window) – but another hoped he would be awake enough for her to at least wish him good night. She missed reading him his bedtime story and could not wait to return back to their old routine once he was well again and her trial was over and done with.
She had just turned into the corridor of which her chambers door open out into when a strange prickling sensation coursed through her body. She came to an abrupt halt and accessed the corridor carefully, taking her time to assess every detail in, hunting for anything that might be out of place. Nothing seemed out of place and all was quiet.
She rubbed her arms, telling herself firmly to stop being silly. But even so, a quiet thought at the edge of her mind still spoke of how having Sting strapped to her hip would be nothing but a good thing.
She moved quietly to her door, taking care to walk as silently as she had done when sneaking around Smaug's bedroom (well… up until the coins. She hadn't had a hope of walking without noise the moment she stepped out upon that first gold slope), laying her hand upon the handle, opening the door and peering inside. Her heart all but stopped when she saw what was within.
"NO!" the helpless cry left her lips before she was able to think better on it, her mind too filled with terror of seeing a strange dwarf standing over her son's bed holding a knife. The dwarf's head snapped in her direction, blinking at her in surprise.
"Ya ain't suppose ta be 'ere." The dwarf rumpled slowly as he took a step towards her, away from her sleeping son.
"Where's Mira?" She demanded edging towards where Sting had been set beside her dresser. The dwarf didn't reply his focus solely on her movements as he advanced towards her.
She made a lunge for Sting but fell short as the dwarf came at her with his knife. Her hands shot out, catching the blade between her palms. A cry of pain slipped past her clenched lips as the blunt-ish edge of the knife sliced her fingers and palms open, her blood running hotly down her wrists.
"Mama?" Her son's grogging call broke the hobbit and dwarf out of their struggle and Bilbo found herself being slammed against the stone wall of the room as her attacked returned to his original purpose.
"Mama?" her fingers trembled as she searched within her clothing, finding one of the many knives Nori continuously kept slipping upon her person. Every time she removed a knife from her pocket, another two seemed to appear, taking its place.
She let out a small sob as she pulled the knife back, that way Nori and Fili had taught her years ago to do. Her angle was horrid and already, she can hear Dwalin growling at her to fixed it but she pushed his voice aside for her desire was not to kill the dwarf, just to get him away from her son. Her angle would hit him; she knew that much, and hitting may just be enough.
Her knife embedded itself into her attacker's arm causing him to rear back with a roar of pain as unlike his own knife, her little knife was sharp and lethal.
She pulled out another knife from her pocket, blood dripping over her clothes, holding it out in front of her as the dwarf once more advanced towards her, his knife drawn over his head.
"Mama!"
"THORIN!" She screamed as she threw her second knife, this one hitting her attacker in the chest, right over his heart, the knife's sharp blade cutting through the dwarf's leather guard uniform easily. He stared at her to the knife in his chest in surprise before his expression turned to one of panic at the sound of running feet.
"THORIN!" She screamed again and the chamber door slammed open, bouncing forcibly off the stone wall as it did so. Her attacker took one look at the murderous expression written all over the King under the Mountain's face before he pitched himself forward, landing heavily upon the stone floor.
He let out a strangle gasp before falling deathly silent. Bilbo was not the least bit ashamed to admit later that she actually screamed when he did this, that he had willingly brought about his own death by forcing her knife further into his chest, into his heart due to him being unable to face the consequences of his actions.
She drew her bloody hands closer to her chest as Thorin, Dwalin, Nori and several guards came pounding in her room.
Thorin gaze lay focused upon the dead dwarf for a sole moment before his eyes turned to rest upon her. She watched with morbid fascination as his eyes widen in horror, darken with fury before settling into what she was starting to consider his king face as he marched over to her side while Nori and Dwalin moved to inspect the body of the fallen dwarf while the guards searched her chambers for any further threats.
Despite his blank kingly expression, Thorin's hands were incredibly gentle as he took her trembling ones into his, inspecting her injuries. She saw the corner of his eyes tighten, could almost sense his rage beneath the surface of his cool, kingly exterior before he barked at a guard to go and fetch Oin.
"Frodo?" Thorin's eyes flashed to hers for a brief moment before he nodded and, quite unwillingly if she was reading his body language correctly, left her side to check on the wellbeing of their son.
"Nice throw." Nori commented from where he crouched by the dwarf's corpse, careful not to get any blood on to his clothes.
Bilbo blinked at him for a moment before she, quite stupidly, felt tears start to prick behind her eyes. Nori's face fell as he watched tears start to run down her face.
"I didn't," She stuttered as tears started to run hotly down her chest, "I wasn't meaning to kill him. I – I just wanted to get him away from Frodo!" Frodo? Her son was being placed into her arms by Thorin, his tiny arms wrapping themselves around her neck.
"Mama?" his voice was hoarse and croaky as he twisted his head to look from her tear stained face to her bleeding hands.
"I'm alright." She forced herself to smile at him. Her son, bless his little soul, simply shook his head and hugged himself closer to her. Their hug was awkward with her injured hands and trying to keep blood from falling on to him, but as awkward (and painful in her case) as it was, the love was there and she knew that she would happily take any pain, physical or emotional that the world might throw at her, if it meant if it meant keeping this beautiful child in her arms safe and sound. One glance at Thorin, now standing protectively over her and Frodo, she knows that he feels the same way.
It was hard to pry them apart once Oin had arrived in her chambers to inspect her hands, muttering that no one told him how serious her injuries were. It was only with much coaxing and finally Thorin putting his hands around Frodo's waist and physically lifting the little boy away did they relinquish their embrace.
Oin tuttered over her hands as soon as he came to crouch in front of her, taking her hands in his weather-worn fingers. She bit down hard upon her lip as he started to clean them with a warm wet cloth soaked with disinfected ointment.
She heart growls from all around her once her fingers and palms were clean of blood (the ointment used by Oin was not only a disinfected but also encouraged wounds to stop bleeding. Within reason, of course.) and the true extent of her injuries were revealed.
"Whatcha do? Grab his knife of something?" Dwalin growled his face, when she peeked up at him from beneath her sweat sticky curls, torn between a look of exasperation and pride. Frodo was squirming in Thorin's arms, trying to get a better look at her hands. Thankfully, Thorin was having none that and was firmly keeping Frodo from seeing any of the gruesome details of her hands.
"Well…" She looked sheepishly down at her hands before looking away quickly or else risk throwing up and honestly her pride would not cope with her being sick in front of these dwarves. These dwarves who were all staring back at her in disbelief causing her, for a moment, to forget the pain in her hands and let out an annoyed huff.
"He swung the knife at me!" She retorted back at them in ignition, going to cross her arms across her chest before remembering, with a yelp of pain, the cuts that were inflicted into the flesh of palm and fingers. Fighting back tears once more, she added, "I couldn't get to Sting, what was I meant to do?"
"Duck? Run away? Not grab the knife?" Bilbo threw her best withering look in Nori's direction.
"I wasn't thinking." She snapped back indignation, "I just wanted him away from Frodo!"
"Mother bear." Nori snorted but there was genuine pride in his dark eyes. She made to smile back at him but was unable to as a cry of pain struggled to escape her as one of the deeper cuts in her hand sang out in pain as Oin cleaned it further.
"Need stitches." Oin finally rumbled as he wrapped her hands in temporary bandages, applying pressure upon the cuts that despite his ointment, refused to give up on bleeding, "But could have been worse." He added looking from Thorin to her, "Tough paws, you Halfings have. Must be from all the gardening you lot do. You'll need to do hand exercises during the healing process so as to make sure the muscles and tissue don't lose their strength and stiffen. I also have an ointment that I want you to use, it will help ease the pain as well help the healing process of the skin and flesh underneath." Bilbo simply nodded along with what Oin was saying even though her mind was too clouded with pain, confusion and oddly a strong desire to sleep to truly comprehend was he was saying.
She let out a small squeal of surprise when Dwalin expectantly swung her up into his arms, but all protest tied upon her lips when she was certain the huge dwarf was not about to drop her as they set off for Oin's infirmary, her hands curled tightly to her chest, her head rest listlessly upon Dwalin's shoulder. It was quite bizarre, truly, this feeling. It was like she had lost all strength in her body and her head was so heavy, she just wanted to lay down somewhere and sleep.
She didn't remember much of changing into a white night dress (with the aid of one of Oin's dwarrowdam assistants) or the stitching process once they reached Oin's infirmary but she did remember the horrid concoction Oin forced her to drink to help with the pain and to help her sleep. And it did, once she was over the taste of it, almost immediately but still it didn't stop her from trying to spit the evil stuff up, something that her son found utterly hilarious. Right up until the moment, Oin was pushing his cold medicine into his hands and he tried to make a bolt for it. Luckily, Thorin had a firm grip on him or they would have certainly lost the coughing, sneezing child into the night.
With a small sigh, Thorin carried Frodo over to a chair by the bed Bilbo was currently lying in, sitting down with Frodo firmly set upon his lap, one arm wrapped around the little boy's waist, while the other held the small cup of medicine for Frodo to take.
Bilbo fought hard to keep herself from grinning as she watched the two of them struggle; every time Thorin got the small cup anywhere near Frodo's lips the little boy's head snapped in the opposite direction, his lips tightly pursed closed.
"Oh Frodo," She groaned, "act your age."
"I think he is." Dwalin replied with a snort from where he and Oin stood, clearly enjoying watching their king's struggles with his nine year old son.
"Uh huh Mama, I…" Frodo's words were drowned by spluttering as Thorin had seen an opening of his son not moving and his mouth open, seized it without a second thought, unceremoniously dumping the medicine into Frodo's open mouth. He pressed his large hand over Frodo's mouth to keep the little lad from spitting back up the medicine, paying very little heed to his son's whining and wiggling until Frodo finally swallowed the horrid stuff.
"Bleh…" Frodo whined as he made clawing motions at his throat before he was overcome with coughs. Thorin rubbed his back and helped him down some water before the little lad fell back against his chest in exhaustion, glaring half-heartedly up at Thorin.
"S'not fair." Frodo grunted, "You're bigger than me."
"If you took it without any fuss, I wouldn't have to go to such measures to get the awful stuff down your throat." Thorin replied simply, "Do you want some water?" Frodo pouted at him for a long moment before giving an ever so slight nod.
Thorin reached over to where a jug stood on Bilbo's bedside table and poured two cups of water, handing one to Frodo and the other to Bilbo. Frodo downed the contents in two gulps while Bilbo took more measured sips of her water.
"Story?" Frodo asked his eyes wide and innocent, his expression hopeful as he looked up at Thorin. Bilbo let out an amused snort as she settled down into the bed. Dwalin let out a bark of laughter before giving a bow and taking his leave of the room while Oin fussed around in his office.
"Story?" Thorin asked, his face serious but his dark blue eyes were dancing with amusement.
"Uh huh." Frodo tugged on the braid he was currently clutching, "please?"
"And what have you done to deserve a story?" Thorin teased causing Frodo to let out a whine.
"Thorin stop teasing him." Bilbo yawned and snuggled further into the bedding, her eyes drooping shut. She closed her eyes to sound of Thorin's low voice speaking of yet another tale of Durin, her mind soothed by the sound of his voice and her body relaxing due to Oin's medicine. She barely heard more than a few words of his story before she was asleep.
Author's Note: So this might be the last you hear of me for at least this week as I'm going back to work tomorrow and I might be too tired to write/update for next couple of days ( though who knows, I say these things and then find, the next day or so that I've written three or so chapters, so maybe take this with a grain of salt).
I hope you've all enjoyed this chapter as much as I loved writing back in March last year and rewriting when I was down at my Dad's early last week. By rewrite, it wasn't a complete re-working of the chapter, but originally Balin was there and Thorin and Bilbo weren't as close because obviously at that point I wasn't sure of how exactly they had made-up (actually I think, originally, this was meant to be like the starting point of them making-up, Thorin getting the shock of almost, you know, "losing" her... again, and he sort snaps himself out being a stand-offish jerk) and you know, little stuff like that, changing a line here, giving all Balin's original lines to either Nori or Oin but of course, editing them so as for to sound like something Nori or Oin would say, you know little stuff. But basically, it is what I wrote back in March.
Hope you all enjoyed this chapter and the last. We'll be with this mini-arc for a couple more chapters and then its the Trial and then it on to ARC Bloody FOUR! Seriously, as much as I've enjoyed writing elements of Arc Three, I am more than happy to move to the Fourth Arc.
Once again, hope you've all enjoyed both chapters. Bye for now.