The next few days were repetitive, yet not quite dull.

Bree stretched out far and we passed a few outward villages, though we didn't stop in them unless it was to buy more food to cook, or for the Dwarves to sell off the trinkets they made in exchange for more materials to use for the road. Gandalf never let me go with them and stayed with me while we watched the horses, but if it meant avoiding the stares of people, then I was all for that. Bilbo brought me back more yarn and charcoal, so at least that was nice.

Gandalf made a good waiting buddy. He spoke a lot about his travels, though most of his stories were about how he managed to get out of paying for the services that he used. He told me in detail about how he managed to escape the Prancing Pony by climbing out a window and using the sheets, like in a cartoon or some shit. He left money for a replacement blanket, but not to cover the cost of living he had used that night.

I don't know why he was admitting his crimes to me, but I wasn't judging. I guess being a wizard meant that he didn't get a steady flow of income, even for his fireworks. I don't know why the Prancing Pony keeps letting him back in, but I'll take his word for it that it's the only entertainment that they have all year.

Hopefully this won't come back to bite him in the ass at some point.

When he wasn't telling me about all his adventures (which included even more crimes, like trespassing and a few cases of theft), he was asking things about me, some questions personal and some general. Some questions reminded me of things my therapist used to ask, so that was a bit sus.

Thankfully, he never pressed when I refused to answer.

Everything else went along normally on the road, only this time, they were all loudly telling stories and singing upbeat songs to help the time go along. I mostly stayed in the back and listened while I took notes from the book, but I had the occasional question thrown at me. Most of them weren't personal or they would ask me to share stories with them, which I only did just to get the spotlight back off me afterwards.

I haven't made much progress in the book, since that much information at once was hard to process and even harder to incorporate into my behavior. It was even harder now since the Dwarves decided to stop ignoring me and pull me into more conversations. Even Bilbo was confused by this sudden shift in behavior, but like the mother he was, he kept making me put my book down to socialize.

What a loser.

So far, I've only filled a few pages in one of the blank books with notes over things to remember for when I'm in Rivendell (which I have written in Spanish, just in case one of them decided to be nosy and snoop through my stuff). Most of it just consisted of things I shouldn't do, which was easy since I plan to avoid everyone until we had to leave. I just had to keep my head down and avoid attention, which should be pretty simple. I'm sure it'll be easier to blend in around other elves.

Regardless, I'm taking a break from the book. I still have at least 3 weeks left, I think, so I can study later. I can feel my brain frying with the overload of information.

I put my book away and pulled out my smaller sketchbook, along with a stick of charcoal. This one was encased in wood, similar to a pencil, to prevent smudging my hands. It was my favorite art supply, even though my heart still yearned for graphite pencils.

Kili jumped next to me, which made me tense and look into the woods nearby. There was nothing there, or at least nothing that I saw, but the anxiety that suddenly spiked in my chest didn't go away. None of the other Dwarves jumped, but they all looked tense, even as they avoided my gaze.

Weird. Did I do something I wasn't aware of?

I looked over to Bilbo, who was trying to detangle his crochet project with his teeth since the knots were too tight to undo with his fingers. He didn't seem to notice anything wrong, and neither did Gandalf. Either it was just an animal or I'm just hallucinating.

The anxiety didn't go away even as I drew cute mushrooms across the pages.

Something did happen in the next town, but I wasn't sure if it was enough to warrant that anxiety burst. Bilbo did come back angry, and Kili was wiping tears from his face. Thorin had stomped back into camp and ordered everyone back on their ponies. Something told me I didn't want to know.

Bilbo knew something was wrong with the Company the moment he had returned from their bath yet didn't have the opportunity to ask what was wrong. He didn't know what it was, yet he felt the subtle burn of anger as he started putting the pieces together. They were small signs, yet he noticed them all the same.

First, it was Kili's increasingly guilty looks that he kept giving Glírae's travel bag and his fidgeting every time the elf looked at him. Something told him that it was more than his little crush on his friend that got him that flustered.

Then, it was the looks of pity from everyone, even the old wizard. Those were followed by attempts at small talk, mostly focusing on his friend, with questions that were deliberately asked to start a conversation about one's past.

Bilbo had been in the Shire long enough to know when someone was trying to pry without breaking the rules of politeness. It was practically engrained in his family.

The behavior only continued the further they went along the travel road, with the Dwarves making more and more attempts to sneak their way closer to his friend. Glírae, to his credit (or not), remained fixated on his book and had yet to notice the strange things happening around him. He answered every question he was asked in the same vague and direct way that he had always had.

"So, where are you from, lad?" Balin had asked.

"I'm not from anywhere near here. I'm not sure the same of it in the common tongue, but it's a beautiful place surrounded by deserts in the East." Glírae shrugged yet did not elaborate.

That was more than Bilbo had ever gotten, but he had never really asked before.

"Do you have any siblings?" Fili had asked one day after pushing Kili off his horse for breathing in his general direction.

"Yes. I'm the oldest of 6." Glírae responded, and then went silent as he furiously took notes from his herb book without even volunteering their names.

Every question was answered similarly, yet the Dwarves hadn't stopped fishing for information. Why were they so interested in him? Bilbo was going to find out.

The final nail in the coffin was watching Gandalf sneak Glírae's prized sketchbook into his bag when he was asleep. Bilbo had felt his stomach burn in unfiltered rage.

It was on their final trip into the last town they would see for a while when Bilbo finally brought the group to a halt, just out of earshot from Glírae and Gandalf. The group had frozen when Bilbo had grabbed hold of Fili's tunic and pulled him back.

"Alright, all of you. Out with it." He had said firmly, praying that his nerves didn't make him sound pathetic. "You went through his stuff, didn't you? What are you trying to gain from him?"

No one answered and half of the group went pale. Ori even choked on the fresh bread that he was eating. After a tense silence that did nothing to calm Bilbo's anxiety, Thorin sighed deeply.

"We saw the pages of his sketchbook. My nephew," He made an angry gesture towards Kili, who wilted with guilt. "Decided to look into it while you were bathing. We all saw his sketches."

Bilbo sucked in a breath of anger at the violation of privacy, but before he could say something he would surely regret, he was interrupted by Ori, who was close to tears.

"If you had only seen them yourself!" He cried, thoroughly shaken. "I have never seen art that disturbed."

"They were horrifying, Master Baggins." Glóin said as he wiped his eyes. "If you have seen them, you would understand why we could not say anything. We didn't want to bring attention to something that has hurt him so much! Whatever happened to him was horrific enough to leave deep scars and we've seen the outcome. Surely you understand that the boy is not-"

Bilbo let out an exhausted cry that broke Glóin's train of thought. He let go of Fili to rub at the headache beginning to form on the back of his eyes.

"Of course I know Glírae's not alright! I have lived with him for 5 years now. I'm more surprised that it took violating his privacy to figure that out." He huffed. "That is not the point I'm making here. I'm not asking what you thought and it is not your business as to what happened to him. I'm asking why you decided to go through his things in the first place. I understand that you don't care for him, but he deserves respect just as much as I!"

"Not care for him?" Kili cried in horror and offense. "I care for him very much! He's the love of my life and the one I wish to marry! I was only looking for something to make him-"

Something snapped in Bilbo's chest.

"Absolutely not!" Bilbo interrupted with a small shout. "First, you do not get to say that, Kili. You do not rummage and disrespect a person that you claim to love, nor do you hide it from them once you did. And second, Glírae will not marry you and you will not engage in any sort of courting with him!"

Kili took a step back from the sudden fury of the hobbit and Bilbo felt a smidge of guilt when he saw his eyes begin to tear up. None of the other Dwarves said anything, not even Thorin. Fili made a point to look away from his brother's pleading eyes.

"You know nothing about him and Glírae is in no state to even consider marriage. He is terrified of any form of emotional connection and has stated numerous times to me and once to you that he would never seek out a romantic relationship. You would be ignoring his consent should you chose to pursue him, and I do not trust him enough to say no to you."

Kili stood to tower over the halfling, but Bilbo stood his ground and further proved it by poking him on the chest. Thorin moved over to push Bilbo off, but one sharp look stopped him in his tracks.

"No. You don't get to defend yourself here. What you did was selfish and lacked all awareness. You claim to love him yet won't even admit your wrongdoings to him. All of you should be ashamed!" Bilbo huffed. "Any dreams you've had of carrying him off to marry in your mountain need to stop right now. He isn't just a pretty face for you to fantasize about, not will I let him commit to something he is not ready for."

Kili was then pushed back behind Thorin, who looked positively murderous. Bilbo would have been intimidated, but his rage had yet to die down.

"You would scold my nephew?"

Bilbo rolled his eyes and frowned even harder at the so-called king.

"Clearly, since you don't do it nearly enough if he ended up like this. Keep him away from my friend and I won't have to."

With that, Bilbo took off towards the camp in a huff.

Surprisingly, I wasn't the one with the nightmare a few nights later. It was frustrating and awful and completely avoidable.

It started when we set up camp for the night in a clearing outside the thick forests, one with mostly plains and stone. It wasn't the most comfortable place to rest, but I wasn't going to complain if it meant rest. I had been sent to gather firewood, since Thorin and Bilbo weren't on speaking terms at the moment for whatever reason.

The sky had gotten dark, and the fire was roaring when it happened. It was after we had cleaned up dinner and were in the process of getting ready for bed (with Bilbo spoiling our pony and horse) when the howls of something awful roared in the distance.

Bilbo immediately flinched, tense and pale and terrified. I sat up, ready to go catch him if he started to wobble.

He must have thought they were wolves.

"W-What was that?" He stuttered out and moved closer towards me.

The Dwarves around us perked up, though none of them moved. They were relaxed and calm, just a bit more alert than before.

"Orcs." Kili responded, smirking in more than just a joking way.

A sudden spike of annoyance and anger hit me. I knew this scene and no fucking way was I letting this happen to him.

"Orcs?" Bilbo shook and moved closer, dropping himself down next to me.

I placed my hand over his, which he held tight to. Those fucking jackasses. Can't they see that he's legitimately afraid of those things? This man survived the Fell Winter. Of course he's terrified of what's on the outside. The outside killed his parents and devastated his community.

Have some fucking sympathy.

"Throat cutters. They'll be dozens of them out there." Fili joined in. "The lone lands are crawling with them."

Stop it. This isn't funny. This is beyond dick-ish behavior and downright cruel.

"They strike in the wee small hours while everyone is asleep. Quick and quiet. No screams. Just lots of blood." Kili said, then chuckled when Bilbo turned pale and flung himself at me.

Oh fuck no.

Thorin got up, but I was there first.

"Stop." I said and then everything went silent, but I was too angry to care. "You think this is funny? How immature can you get to laugh at someone's expense? It's cruel, so stop. You both are just awful."

I got up and moved towards the other side of the camp, dragging Bilbo along. Hearing Thorin's tragic backstory be damned. Bilbo followed me without complaint and didn't say anything for the rest of the night, though he kept looking out in the distance. My reassurances that nothing was going to get us didn't seem to register and he buried himself into my chest.

I wasn't surprised when Bilbo woke up later that night, gasping and sweating and terrified. I was ready for it, as I hadn't gone to sleep, and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Unlike me, who hated contact of any kind when I was in the after-panic state, Bilbo craved it. He needed it and he needed it right away, otherwise his thoughts would spiral and spiral of all the Hobbits that were no longer with him and how he would wake up cold and alone in his home. He buried himself into my chest, clawing and gripping at my clothes until I hugged him enough to keep him grounded.

I didn't even care that the Dwarves woke up.

I ran my fingers through his hair, gently rocking and focusing on the spots he liked the most. Slowly, very slowly, he began to calm and relax. It didn't take much to calm him like it did me, but I could at least do one thing he couldn't.

"Want me to sing to you?" I asked.

He nodded and relaxed but didn't let go. I kept messing with his hair and holding him upright, clearing my throat to sing my favorite lullaby.

"You're okay, you're alright

I'll never, ever leave your side

I will stay, I will fight

With you... "

I hummed along to the vocals in the middle, feeling for his heartbeat to make sure that it was slowing down. He shivered at the touch but didn't push me away.

"You're okay, you're alright

I'll stay here through the darkest night

All the way, I will fight

With you... "

I held him for the rest of the night, singing the lullaby over and over again until my voice gave out on me.