A/N: Heyoooo. Wow, that's quite a lot of favourites and follows! Thank you all for your support! To Wraven, Singingoompaloompas, Sassy Robert, AshesCastle, queenofthefallenfics, alexma, FD and the two annonymous Guests: Thank you so much for your reviews! I really appreciate it ^^

This chapter is a bit boring, sorry

Reminders: I have no betas, so if you spot any mistakes, please do let me know! This story mainly follows the movieverse, although I may borrow some stuff from the book (like description). The characters may seem a bit ooc as well; Bilbo in this story is more stubborn/reckless and all, not quite a gentlehobbit. (He's not even an actual hobbit hahaha)

Reviews and constructive criticism are appreciated :)

DISCLAIMER: The characters and the Hobbit universe belongs to J.R.R Tolkien (and the movie company) and does not belong to me. (And it never will)

Chapter 3

During the Second Age, most of the dragons went into hiding. The first few centuries were peaceful, but the peace was disrupted by the appearance of Sauron, Morgoth's right-hand man. When Sauron rose, he called upon those wyrms still loyal to Morgoth. The wyrms tricked some of the Dragonkin into serving Sauron; The One Ring compelled them, and corrupted them.

Once again, the other races were met with the ferocity of the dragons. During this time, the animosity between dragons and dwarves was created: the dwarves had an insatiable lust for gold due to the rings given by Sauron, and the wyrms were cursed with a similar lust for gold. The wyrms invaded kingdoms, especially dwarves, snatching away gold and anything shiny. The other races hated the wyrms; most thought dragons to be a race of pure evil. Few knew the truth. The elves dare not share their knowledge, for fear of the Dragonkin's safety and survival, besides other reasons.
Most of the wyrms under Sauron did not survive the war, but most had caused a huge amount of casualties and damage before being brought down.

The hatred towards dragons grew. The Dragonkin were even more careful to remain hidden after that, even as their numbers dwindled and they neared extinction. A previously great race, the Dragonkin, was reduced to such a pathetic state.

-Excerpt, from "The Forgotten Tales of the Dragonkin".

The dwarves settled down in the living room for the night. Bilbo, after seeing to the dwarves, entered his room. His room was literally filled with books, from the floor to the ceiling. The only area not filled with books was his bed, and a small path leading from the door to his bed. He sighed happily as he trailed his fingers along the spines of his books; being surrounded with his hoard instantly made him feel better. Sitting on his bed, he started to write letters to the hobbits.

To Hamfast Gamgee, his gardener, he explained that he has matters to take care of and must leave with the dwarves. He leave the care of his garden in his hands, and may be back in two years or so.

To the Thain, he wrote a similar explanation, but added that he will be back, so keep the other hobbits (especially Lobelia Sack-Baggins) far away from his smial and his possessions. In the event that he never come back, his sister would deal with his smial. The hobbits were used to his comings and goings and un-hobbitish behaviour, so his disappearance would not be amiss.

To Lobelia, he wrote a simple note: "Keep your sticky fingers out of my smial. Take something, even the silver spoons, and I would know." That should discourage her from attempting to break into his smial. (Honestly, who is crazy enough steal from a dragon and try to get away with it? Oh wait, that would be him in the near future. Great.)

Matters settled, he went into another room (one of the few rooms not filled with books) and started to prepare his travel pack. A few sets of dark-coloured, hardy, and thick clothes, a thick blanket, handkerchiefs (for he had spent many years as a hobbit, and may have picked up some of their habits), a small sewing kit, some money, a book for comfort, his daggers, a bedroll and small items here and there. Then, he hauled a chest out from under his bed.

Caressing the engravings on the chest gently, he opened the chest and pulled out a thick, mottled green cloak. Although it looked plain, it was hand-sewn by Belladonna Took and gifted to him. It was good for camouflage in the forest, and warm even in winter. It had been years since he took it out. He hesitated bringing it along: although he would need it for this adventure, he was reluctant to risk ruining it.

In the end, he draped it over his travel bag with a sigh. If Belladonna and Bungo were still alive, they would whack him for even considering leaving the cloak behind. "The cloak, Mister, is made to be used, and use it you will!" Belladonna would have said, with Bungo nodding enthusiastically behind her. Oh, how he missed them. Smiling slightly, he casted one last glance at his cloak before retiring for the night.

They set out early the next day. After making sure his door was properly locked, he left the letters in Hamfast's letterbox and met up with the dwarves. The ponies, although still slightly edgy around him, were familiar with his scent and did nothing more than fidget uncomfortably. Then they were off.

They travelled the whole day, stopping only for a quick lunch. At night, the Company camped near the edge of a cliff. Most of the dwarves were asleep, with Balin, Killi, Filli, and Thorin being the exception. Gandalf was still awake, as usual. Bilbo doubted that the wizard slept more than 2 hours daily. Maybe wizards require less sleep, or maybe it was just a Gandalf thing, Bilbo wondered idly.

Gloin was snoring loudly, with tiny flying insects being sucked into his mouth every time he inhaled, and when he exhaled the insects flew out again, still alive and well. Bilbo curled his lips in disgust.

The sound of a warg howling, albeit soft, cut through the silence of the night. Bilbo's head jerked up and his hand subtly inched towards the dagger strapped under his tunic, on his forearm.

"Orcs." he heard Killi hiss to Filli.

"Orcs?" Bilbo asked, and walked towards them. He did not know orcs still roam around these areas. They were no more than a day's ride from Bree as well; they were too close to his hobbits for his liking.

The siblings looked startled to see him awake before nodding.

"Throat-cutters. There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them," Filli replied. "They strike in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood," Killi added. Bilbo was unimpressed. Before he could reply, Thorin spoke.

"You think that's funny? You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

Killi and Filli exchanged horrified looks. "We didn't mean anything by it."

"No, you didn't. You know nothing of the world," Thorin growled before stalking off to the edge of the cliff.
Killi and Filli looked abashed. Balin began retelling the tale, of how Thrain II, son of Thror, father of Thorin, was killed by the pale orc Azog, and the defeat of Azog by Thorin. The tale was impressive, and Bilbo felt a tinge of sympathy for the king. He had lost much, and would probably lose more; for that, Bilbo pitied him.

Bilbo also could not help but draw similarities between him and Thorin. Both of their homes were wrecked by Smaug; both of them watched their father die; both of them hated orcs with a burning passion. That was where all similarities ended, thank Yavanna. No way was he as brooding as that Thorin Oakenshield, or as sullen, or as rude. No way at all. And why was he even drawing similarities betweeen himself and Thorin? He did not even like that dwarf. Bilbo shuddered, and tried not to think about him. If he wanted to brood, so be it. It was not Bilbo's business to care.

Yet, the image of the lone dwarf sitting on the edge of the cliff, staring morosefully at the moon, lingered on his mind.

It was raining in the morning, and Bilbo felt absolutely miserable. He was soaked to the bones, could feel all the layers of clothes sticking to his skin, was uncomfortable, cold, and dirty, and what exactly had he done to deserve this torture? A wet dragon is a miserable dragon, and even with Bilbo's increased body heat, he felt cold. His cloak, his poor lovely cloak, was waterlogged and dreadfully heavy. Bilbo grumbled and cursed under his breath as the Company rode through the muddy forest. Mud sloshed constantly and Bilbo was just thankful that his pony, Myrtle, was not one to suddenly buck and throw him off her back. Yes, he would reward Myrtle generously for not throwing him into the mud or doing something equally vile.

"Mister Gandalf, can't you do something about this deluge?" Dori was the one who asked. Bilbo snorted.

"It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard," Gandalf replied. Bilbo snorted derisively again. He knew that the dratted wizard could probably do something to ease their suffering, but just chose not to. That fish-smelling, parasite-infested wizard.

Gandalf smiled pleasantly at Bilbo. "That sounded like a weird cough Mister Bilbo, do be careful, we wouldn't want you catching a cold now, would we?"

"May you fall into a huge puddle of mud, you old coot," Bilbo grumbled loud enough only for Gandalf to hear. He merely continued smiling infuriatingly at Bilbo.

Not long after it had stopped raining, the Royal Regal Dwarf deemed a place suitable for camp. Bilbo was still soaked and relished in the idea of drying his clothes next to a warm, crackling fire. Wet undies are one of the worse things ever, he grumbled internally.

"Bilbo," Gandalf asked him quietly, "Do you smell anything weird?"

"Besides wet dwarves? No, I don't; the smell of extremely damp soil, thanks to the dratted heavy rain, masked most of the other scents. Not to mention that my nose is currently clogged with the smell of wet horses and wet dwarves. If there's something dangerous abound, I can't smell it," Bilbo groused. Gandalf still looked worried.

"Gandalf, what's the matter?"

He nodded his head towards an empty hut and replied, "Not a year ago, a farmer and his family used to live here."

Bilbo looked up sharply. "It's probably not safe here then." Gandalf made a non-committal sound and beckoned Thorin over.

"What is it, wizard?" Thorin barely spared a glance to Bilbo.

"I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley." Bilbo perked; Rivendell! He wanted to go there! It had been a long time since he saw Lord Elrond.

Thorin gritted his teeth. "I have told you already. I will not go near that place."

"Why not? The Elves could help us. We could get food, rest, advice."

"I do not need their advice." Thorin insisted.

"We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us."

"Help? A dragon attacks Erebor. What help came from the Elves? Orcs plundered Moria, desecrated our sacred halls. The elves looked on and did nothing. And you ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather. Who betrayed my father."

Gandalf frowned. "You are neither of them. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold onto the past!" Bilbo's eyes flickered back and forth as they argued, and wisely held his tongue.

"I did not know that they were yours to keep." Thorin narrowed his eyes at the wizard. Bilbo rolled his eyes. The stubbornness of dwarves!

"Thorin, there may be something dangerous lingering. This area doesn't feel safe," Bilbo interrupted.

The stubborn dwarf gave an exasperated sigh, "What does a hobbit know of danger? We will be safe here."

Bilbo glared at Thorin.

"Save it, Bilbo," Gandalf growled as he stomped off angrily. Bilbo hissed at Thorin before following the wizard.

"I've had enough of dwarves for one day!" Gandalf fumed. Bilbo nodded tiredly.

"I'm going to camp somewhere else for tonight, Bilbo. Do stay with them."

Bilbo crossed his arms."But they're annoying," he whined petulantly.

"Bilbo," Gandalf sighed.

"Fine. You owe me one."

Gandalf smiled wryly, nodded, and left.

Bilbo returned to the campsite and dried his clothes next to the fire, smiling in bliss. If any of the dwarves saw him sit too close to the fire, they said nothing. Bombur, that dwarf who broke Bungo's chair (Bilbo seethed at that memory), prepared a broth which smelt delicious. After consuming his dinner, Bofur passed Bilbo two bowls of soup and asked him to pass it to Fili and Kili. Wanting to stretch his legs, Bilbo grabbed his cloak (now thankfully dry) and agreed.

Fili and Kili were staring out into the darkness, a troubled expression on their faces.

"What's the matter?" Bilbo asked, when they ignored the bowls of soup in his hands.

"We're supposed to be looking out for the ponies."

"Only we've encountered a slight problem. We had sixteen. Now there's fourteen."

There was a pause.

"Daisy and Bungo are missing."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows. "Why haven't you both tell Thorin this, instead of staring at nothing?

They smiled sheepishly. "We didn't want to worry him. As our official burglar, we thought you might like to look into it."

Bilbo scrutinised the uprooted trees with a frown. There was an additional scent in the area that smelt quite putrid. Like rotten meat and dirty loincloths, or worse. The creature, or creatures, was definitely something big, possibly dangerous, and desperately needed a shower. Nothing good. His eyes widened slightly as he finally recognized the smell. Trolls. That was the odour of trolls.

Great. He hated trolls. Not only do they stank, they tasted foul, and were dim-witted. Not to mention they brought "uncouth" to a whole new level.

"Hey! There's a light. Over here! Stay down." Fili led them through the forest (Bilbo followed his nose actually) towards the light. They hid behind a log and peeked. Yep, they were trolls.

Three trolls, in fact, together with their ponies.

"Burglar, do something," Fili whispered.

"Mountain trolls are slow and stupid, and you're so small, they'll never see you," Kili added. Bilbo stared at them disbelievingly.

"You want me to do this alone? You dwarves must be stupider than I thought. Fili! Inform Thorin about this, but tell them to attack only if there is no other choice. They're mostly back-up. Kili, i hope you can use that bow of yours well. Grab your weapon and come back as quick as possible."

The siblings tried arguing with the hobbit that no they do not need to involve the others. Bilbo gave them a look specially reserved for unruly hobbitlings and they left quickly, suddenly very eager and supportive of Bilbo's idea. Kili reappeared first, with his bow and arrows.

"I'm going to try and sneak towards them, but if I get caught, aim for the trolls' eyes to distract them. If the other dwarves appeared and there is a need to attack, tell them to try causing a huge commotion before attacking: the trolls are dim-witted, and that may confuse them and slow down their attacks. But attack only if necessary: if I'm unharmed and escaping, do not bother attacking!"

"You sound like you've done this before," Kili noted. Bilbo made a dismissive gesture.

"Do you understand?"

"Aye. We'll be behind you."

Bilbo nodded. Wrapping his cloak around himself, he slipped into the shadows.

Two trolls were sitting around the fire as third troll joined them fate placing two more ponies into the makeshift pen. Troll Ponystealer, his brain supplied helpfully. Troll Cook, with an apron, was stirring a cauldron. As he crept around the trolls, he listened to the conversations. According to Troll Cook, they ate the farmer. How charming. The exceptionally stupid troll, Troll Daft, sneezed into the cauldron, which was extremely disgusting. Bilbo reached the pens of the horses and motioned them to be quiet. Then, he pulled out a dagger and slowly began cutting through the ropes.

Troll Daft turned around and Bilbo flung himself onto the floor praying that his dark green mottled cloak keep him from sight. The troll glanced around the pen, saw nothing out of the ordinary, and sat down again. Internally, Bilbo let out a sigh of relief.

Bilbo finished severing the ropes and led the ponies away, one at a time, when Troll Ponystealer noticed the ponies disappearing.

"The ponies! They're running away! Grab em!"

Bilbo hastily cut through the ropes, and slapped the remaining ponies' rump. Troll Daft tried to stop the ponies but they were too fast for him. Swiftly, they disappeared into the darkness of the forest.

All three trolls decided to focus on the little thing in front of them instead. The little thing being Bilbo.
Bilbo gulped. It was too late to run.

"What are you? An over-sized squirrel?" Troll Ponystealer asked.

Bilbo tried to look confident, "I'm a hobbit."

"What's that?"

"Can we cook 'im?"

"I'm afraid I'm rather poisonous. You wouldn't want to eat me, oh no, not at all."

The three trolls looked at him dumbly.

"It's lying! Let's try and eat it. I'm hungry!"

Troll Daft tried to grab him, and Bilbo swiftly side-stepped his outstretched hand, ducking slightly, before running towards the forest. The three trolls began a mad scramble to grab the hobbit.

"It's too quick!" One of them wailed. Troll Cook, in an attempt to hit Bilbo, hit Troll Daft with the ladle instead and Troll Daft fell on his bum, screeching.

"Shoot! Shoot!" Bilbo yelled. An arrow spontaneously flew out of the forest, right towards Troll Cook's eye, but he ducked suddenly to help Troll Daft up. The arrow hit Troll Cook's cheek, bouncing off his thick skin. He barely noticed it. Bilbo cursed as he saw Troll Ponystealer's hand swooping towards him. The hobbit yanked out his dagger and slashed the troll's hand; the troll howled and reared back. Bilbo was nearing the edge of the forest, he was about to escape, when-

-the dwarves burst out of the forest, screaming, weapons waving.

He stopped and gaped for a second. Bilbo groaned, slapping his forehead with his hand.

"Those stupid dwarves!"

End of Chapter 3

Ahahaha yes I'm evil XD What do you think of this chapter? Like it? Hate it? If you spot any errors, please tell me! Reviews are appreciated! Thank you!

The next chapter is in a week :D

-littlesparrowkeet