Bilbo wasn't exactly sure when he fell asleep. And he honestly couldn't be blamed having lost the time anyway, thank you very much. How was he supposed to stay awake when Vili's steps (yes the very ones that woke him in the first place, but we shan't mention that) rocked him in such a way. And don't even get him started on the effects of the dwarven language on his wakefulness. Bilbo had always heard that Khuzdul was a guttural language filled with jagged edges and harsh lines (of course most people had only ever heard the language on the battlefield and what else could one expect in that environment), but when they switched to it after Bilbo's (rather frightening) declaration of his future intentions. He didn't understand a word of what they said (it is a secret language after all. Not even Bungo Baggins, who prided himself on having learned almost every language in Middle Earth, had never once had the chance to learn it),but he did find that it was not at all what he expected. Instead of the barking and biting that he had expected or the spitting hisses that he had sometimes mused might be in a word or two, their voices were a low grumble almost like the purr of a big (very dangerous) cat. Although there were some harsh points to it, the language had an overall poetic feel to it. It wasn't too quick to be confusing and yet it also wasn't slow enough to make one overly curious of the words spoken. It was almost like a lullaby to Bilbo's tired mind (his father had often sang him to sleep with languages he didn't understand when he was young) and he found himself unable to keep his eyes open.

So Bilbo could not tell when he fell asleep and nor could he honestly say exactly when he woke. It was sometime after dark (that much was obvious by the blackened world only illuminated by the fire) and they had apparently already set up camp (also rather obvious for the same reason), but they were somewhere underneath a canopy of trees and Bilbo couldn't see the stars to tell the exact time. It had to at least be around dinner time, or perhaps even supper time, but Bilbo wasn't particularly hungry. In fact, Bilbo did not feel much of anything. The night was not cold nor the fire warm. He felt no pain from his fall earlier (though he didn't actually know if he was injured enough to feel pain so that was of little concern). The most concerning of all, though, was that Bilbo felt no grass or twigs under his feet as he approached the dwarves. He thought for a moment that the dwarves had conspired to put (Yavanna forbid) boots on him, but when he looked down the fur on his toes was just as it should be, not at all ruffled by such an awful event. How strange that he couldn't feel anything through his feet, though they remained bare. Perhaps, Bilbo thought with a shrug, he was not fully awake (Mr. Proudfoot was known for complaining when he woke that it was far too early to feel his feet before going right back to bed) and he was still somewhat numb in his toes.

Myrtle looked up at him and tilted her head to one side. She was (as usual) munching on some grass at the edge of the group and Bilbo took this time to go over to her without interfering dwarves to get in his way. It was nice talking to them, of course, but he was beginning to feel that he may be neglecting his dear old Myrtle. Even though he rode her almost daily, he had not really gotten the chance to talk to her. After all their conversations on the journey to the mountain, she must miss it (or perhaps she didn't care and it was just Bilbo making things up).

"How are you Myrtle?" He asked her. "I do hope the dwarves have been good to you while I've been sleeping. Oh, but what am I saying, of course they have. They are good dwarves. Good people indeed. I think, even if my soulmate was not related to them, I should be very happy to have them as my friends you know. Though I could certainly do without their overprotectiveness to be sure. And I do wish that they would listen to me about this whole nonsense about my heart. But they're so good and I wouldn't wish to be parted from them now. Now, don't get me wrong, I do want to go back to the Shire and see all my good hobbits, but I don't think I'd ever have found such good friends in Hobbiton. It's funny, you know, only months ago I never would have even considered leaving Bag End, but now I've gone halfway across Middle Earth and I don't think I can imagine what my life would've been if I didn't. I would have been so bored staying in the Shire! Perhaps I may have even ended up like the Sackville-Bagginses. Absolutely miserable! Could you imagine me like that? Sitting around in my armchair with nothing to do, but scowl at the fire all day? Oh, that would be horrible! Absolutely horrendous! I would go mad. Than Lobelia really would have a reason to cast me out of my home. Though, if I were so crazy I may actually take up my pitchfork to chase her away. I have fantasizes about that, you know. Oh how nice it would be to see that she-witch running, screaming, from my tiny little pitchfork. I mean, it's not even a real pitchfork, you know, it's a small handheld thing only meant to help me in my gardening. I don't even think it's that sharp. But that would just make it all the funnier to see Lobelia Sackville-Baggins running from it. Oh, just thinking about it now has me laughing!" And he was indeed giggling between his words. "But that's very bad of me. If my father was here, I'm sure that he would be giving me a very disapproving look. Ill thoughts and foul deeds should be kept to oneself, he always said. Of course he didn't know that my mother often added "lest one make it easier to be caught."" Myrtle lifted her head and looked down her nose at Bilbo and it was so much like the look Bilbo was just talking about that it had Bilbo giggling once more.

"Do you think it's about time we wake him?" Frerin's voice broke through Bilbo's giggling and he turned to the fire where they sat. Perhaps he should go and join them. "He'll probably want to eat something."

Vili nodded and stood from his place beside the prince.

Wait, Bilbo thought suddenly, the prince? He had been so distracted by his own issues earlier that he had completely neglected to pay attention when Vili called Frerin that. Oh dear. Oh dear. He certainly had not been acting in anyway that one should when faced with royalty. Oh, his father would have a thing or two to say to him now. He had to make it up to them somehow. But what should he do now. A grand gesture such as him throwing himself at Frerin's feet in apology would hardly be accepted by his friend. And Bilbo cringed to even consider such a thing. He was a respectable hobbit after all and a grandson of the Thain of the Shire. He may not be royalty as such, but lowering himself in such a way would still be quite unacceptable. Nor could he do a traditional dwarven apology as that most sincere apology he knew of from their culture was to offer up braids, but he didn't actually have any braids to speak of. Of course, he already planned a feast for the dwarves as an apology for earlier and he couldn't very well just add that in on top of it. It would feel far too much like a last minute addition (which it would have been). All other things that he could think of would hardly be enough to make up for his faux paux and some of them were so out of the question that he might as well do nothing at all. But perhaps that's what Frerin would prefer? They hadn't yet corrected Bilbo thus far and Bilbo wasn't a big fan of that sort of formal pleasantry anyway (which may be a surprise to some as Bilbo was often known to proclaim that he was a "Baggins of Bag End" whenever it best suited him).

But if Frerin, who was related to his soulmate, was a prince, did that also mean that his soulmate was royalty? Oh dear. That complicated things. That complicated things quite a bit. What if his soulmate was to be betrothed to another. Of course, Bilbo had already decided that he would stand aside if his soulmate had found someone else that they loved, but it would be so much harder if the betrothal was not for love, but for other reasons entirely. Bilbo had often read stories of Royal humans marrying off their children for land or alliance or something and he would hate to see his soulmate suffer such a loveless fate. And what if they weren't betrothed or otherwise in love? Would they even be able to love a lowly hobbit such as Bilbo? Would Bilbo even be able to spend time with them? Royalty could be rather particular (or so Bilbo had heard) about who they spent time with. What if they cast him off and never let him see them again? What would Bilbo do then?

Bilbo clutched at his chest. His heart hurt and his throat felt like it was closing in on him. If he thought about it really hard he could even almost feel tears beginning to gather in his eyes.

"Now, Bilbo," he admonished himself angrily, "it does no good to dwell on such things. What's the point of fearing the future? It'll come either way. We'll just have to take it one step at a time. And I'm sure it will all turn out well in the end. For now, it's best to focus on the present or else you may as well lose your feet!"

Vili crouched over a mound of furs over by where Bilbo awoke earlier. He was shaking whoever was under rather vehemently and it looked like he was growing quite concerned. "Oin!" He called as he ripped away the furs and leaned down to press his head against the other's chest.

Oh, well, that's not good, Bilbo thought as he rushed forward to help in any way he could. Frerin and Oin came upon Vili first and they crowded around, making it hard for Bilbo to see what was going on. He only hoped that it wasn't one of the little ones. He couldn't remember any of them being sick recently, but children were always more susceptible to illness and losing them was always the hardest thing to endure.

"He's still breathing," Vili said, backing away to allow Oin his access. "But it's weak and he won't wake."

As Vili moved back Bilbo caught a short glance of the face of the one sleeping. What he saw there was rather more than a little alarming. Seeing oneself from the third person can be rather shocking after all. Bilbo looked down at himself again and only now did he realize that he could very clearly see through the fur on his toes all the way down to the dirt beneath his feet. He couldn't very well be blamed for missing it the first time, though, it was really dark, after all.

He really hadn't meant to go yet. Of course, it had always been his intention, but he had wanted to plan some things and possibly give the dwarves some warning before going off on his own, but what's done is done. Well no wonder the dwarves had left him alone to speak to Myrtle when he first woke (the dwarves were fond of surrounding him at every waking moment and Bilbo was rather tired of it all). Bilbo had no time to worry about it, though, as he felt something pulling him to the West. He would have to apologize for the sudden departure when (if) he returned (he had so many things to apologize for that he should really make a list before he forgets it all), but he was hardly eager to stay and wait.

He was finally going to see his soulmate!