WAIT!
HAVE YOU READ CHAPTER 23? OR 19-22? IF NOT, READ THOSE FIRST! I'VE BEEN UPDATING VERY QUICKLY IN A SHORT PERIOD OF TIME.
Also a quick reply to my Guest from the last chapter;
Welcome back! As so many writers will tell you, we don't intentionally (most of the time) allow our fics to lie dormant for so long. Call Me Home has held a special place in my heart since I first stumbled across the prompt for it 4 years ago, and while I have admittedly allowed it to go with quite a few sparse postings as of late, fear not! I have every intention of completing this work, regardless of how long it takes!
Inspired by a prompt I stumbled upon by lateforerebor on tumblr.
Summary: Bilba "Bell" Baggins decides that she's waited quite long enough to take her mother's advice and old stories and go on an adventure of her own. What she didn't expect was to end up in Ered Luin and be adopted by dwarves! AU, Pre-Quest, Undecided Pairings.
-;-
The last rays of the setting sun led the way into the dusk as the howls of wargs on the horizon followed the company deeper into their desperate escape. None of them were in any shape- save Gandalf- to be going head to head with a warg, let alone the orcs who surely accompanied them.
Bilba felt as though she had been through the worst Hells imaginable as she fled alongside the company, too much wrapped up in her own mind to be relieved to have been reunited with her dwarves once again.
As their luck seemed to go, it didn't take long for the first warg to appear; leaping from a higher rock to attempt to corner the smallest of the company. Sword already in hand, the hobbit brandished it with a fierceness in her stance, long since already resigned herself to another shoulder injury by the end of all this. Even more so as she added her injured hand to the hilt.
The warg charged.
Bilba stood her ground, feeling a tad unfriendly herself as she let out a savage cry, thrusting the blade into the warg's skull and burying it deep with the force if its own trajectory. It took several long moments to retrieve it, but she'd already learned enough to know that there were more where this one had come. And indeed, they appeared, serving to herd them closer to the edge of the cliff they had been chased to.
Ahead, the world seemed to spread out from a bird's view, the rippling of the trees appearing more like clouds and the long streaming line of a river on the distant horizon.
Nowhere to run.
"Up into the trees- all of you!" Gandalf urged as the company paused. It was hard for fear not to grip them upon their hearts, realizing that they had inadvertently fallen into a trap.
Dori nearly threw Ori up into the nearest tree, doing the same with a too-quiet Nori before grabbing Bilba by the scruff and tossing her up as though she weighed nothing. Considering how widely Dori's strength was regarded, it didn't surprise her so much as startle her as she clawed onto the nearest branch, gritting her teeth against the twist in her shoulder as she pulled herself up.
No sooner had they all clambered into the trees when the pale orc Bilba had only heard in passing made his entrance upon the white warg.
There was no preparation to see such a terrifying sight. The warg, littered in thick scars along its pelt, lip curling as it scented the air. It was the largest warg by at least half the size of the others; the clear alpha of the pack. And Azog-
Well, if Bilba hadn't already known she would be seeing these images in her dreams, she certainly would be now. Azog was fearsome, left arm missing below the elbow and a truly gruesome farce of a false limb literally impaled through the joint. Scars riddled his flesh, but his gaze was what truly scared the hobbit. It was the gaze of a killer.
The dwarves all sounded alarmed, voicing their fears as the orc spit out oily Black Speech, gaze fixated firmly on the would-be King Under the Mountain. Bilba could not understand his words, nor did she think she would ever want to. But Thorin, it seemed, could.
With a careless flick of his pale head, Azog set the wargs loose. They bounded down the rocks to the bases of the trees, leaping up to snap at the lower branches to further aid their attempts to get at the company taking shelter further up the trunks. Considering her position on a lower branch, Bilba was all too happy to slash at the gaping maws of the creatures as they snapped at her feet, a sickening sense of glee accompanying the wounded yips of pain she received in return.
However, with the number of large warg bodies hitting against the trunk of the tree, it was an inevitable fact that they would begin to give way. The precarious positions of the trees in proximity of the edge of the cliff likely meant that the root systems were not so strong as the ones further back up the mountain side; it meant that there was a mad scramble as the first tree tilted sideways with a jerk that nearly jostled Bilba free from her already delicate perch.
Ori leapt first, the next tree creaking with enough force that Bilba suspected that it would be the next to topple, Dori close behind with Nori. She was the last to leap, almost falling as Bofur latched onto her arm and hauled her onto the branch he was occupying. Thanking him in a breathless gasp, their perch shifted as the other tree further fell into it, unstable.
"Time to go!" Bofur said grimly, the traces of a smile at the edge of his lips. "After you, lass!"
Bilba watched the final tree come into range, her tired body urged into a final jump that was ungraceful at best. Belatedly, she realized that the tree they were all headed for was the most precariously positioned yet, barely attached to the cliff edge and already beginning to fall as the remaining dwarves and hobbit added their weight to the blasted thing.
She may have said some things in Hobbitish in a tone that suggested her displeasure, but they were lost to the wind as she tried to wrap her limbs around the branch she'd grasped onto, closing her eyes as the tree gave way with a low groan that she felt to her core. If this was how it was to end, she'd rather not see the ground coming up to meet her, thank you very much.
And yet, she didn't fall. The tree clung on by the roots, fire licking at the grasses- and when had that happened, exactly? Azog prowled at the edges of the flames, gruesome features illuminated like a beast from legend as he bared his teeth in a feral grin.
Behind her, she heard Ori's cry of alarm, followed by Dori's frantic shout and Gandalf's startled exclamation. Craning her neck, the hobbit was only just able to see the wizard trying to pull two of her three dwarves up to safety. Nori was lying on the trunk, suspiciously limp as Dwalin reached for the thief.
Bilba crawled up onto the top of her branch arduously, shaky limbs betraying just how aware she was that a wrongly placed anything would be her death. And not one she would make it back from. If there was any luck left on this blasted earth, she had surely used it by now simply to make it this far.
Just as she made it back to a more stable position, Fili and Kili both cried out in alarm as Thorin staggered up and strode down the trunk like he was something unwordly. The fire seemed to part before him as he went to meet Azog head on.
The insufferable idiot seemed to have a death wish when it came to that orc, she'd already realized. And considering she seemed to be the only one in any condition to follow him, Bilba sighed. She was going to have to make sure the fool didn't end up dead before she was able to give him what for.
A flash of his features twisted in anger crossed her mind; she flinched.
Perhaps not.
He charged, dramatic in a way only Thorin-bloody-Oakenshield was able to be. His shield, the namesake of his deed-name, brandished in front of his chest as the dwarf bellowed a challenge to the white orc.
Bilba's hands went to her bow before she could think it through, fumbling to notch an arrow with her shaky shoulder holding the bow; she knew she'd have even more trouble attempting to draw the bow string with her shoulder the way it was. Still, she took aim, flinching as the white warg launched itself down from its rock, flattening the dwarf with ease.
Inhale. Exhale.
Focus.
The warg turned back around, exposing its flank as it prowled back toward the winded dwarrow who thought he was fit to be trying to take on the Defiler alone. Her shoulder ached, and the longer she hesitated, the worse it would get.
Adjusting her grip, she exhaled again, loosing the arrow.
It almost missed her mark entirely, only grazing the warg's flank rather than sinking home. Still, it was enough for the beast to yowl, distraction enough for Thorin to climb back to his feet and ready himself as Azog's face turned toward the defiant hobbit standing on a branch of an unstable tree.
Thorin stood alone amid the circle of fire, wargs and orcs, eyes steely as he lunged toward Azog. The orc urged his mount forward, mace catching the dwarf in the chest with a sickening sound they could all hear above the crackling of flame.
Dwalin, amongst others, cried out in alarm as Thorin crumpled, a grimace on his features.
A groan of wood beneath her feet gave Bilba pause- too much. She regained her balance just in time to see the warg wrap its jaws around Thorin's midsection, teeth biting through leathers and furs as the dwarf grunted in pain.
No.
Ice water flowing in her veins, Bilba straightened, grabbing the last arrow that had survived the journey thus far and notching it with cold surety before loosing it.
This time, the warg screamed, pawing at its face as it dropped the dwarf. By sure dumb luck, Bilba's arrow had sunken into the warg's jowls, deep enough that it would not be able to get it out easily, if at all.
Bow in one hand, her sword in the other, the hobbit ran toward the fight, distant cries of alarm rippling through the company as they realized her intent.
Azog barely seemed phased to see injury befall his warg, flicking his metal claw forward as Black Speech dripped from his throat. Bilba didn't understand the foul words, but the intent was clear as another orc and warg stepped forward with dark anticipation, Thorin still and unmoving against the rocky ground.
"No!"
Bilba's bow dropped to the ground as she barrelled into the orc ready to bring its blade down upon Thorin's neck, her sword slamming home into the orc's back. It gurgled once as it hit the ground, unmoving as the hobbit mindlessly pulled the metal free.
"They are not yours!" she spit in Hobbitish, knowing she had taken the much larger pale orc off guard when he threw his head back with a barking laugh that sent shivers down her spine. "You can't have them!"
It had been a very long day on all fronts; Bilba had reached the end of her patience with the constant running and hiding they'd been doing to try and outrun the orc pack- never mind that she was riding high on some kind of battle-fever.
The warg growled as Azog's claw sank into the red stained fur, baring teeth at the small hobbit as it stalked forward. Around them, the renewed sound of battle resumed as the rest of the company managed to free themselves from their precarious positions, the heat of the flame licking at Bilba's heels as she put herself between Thorin and Azog.
The white warg stalked closer, the orc upon it watching her in open amusement. The Black Speech Azog spoke rumbled to her bones, but Bilba grit her teeth and snarled in return, lunging for her sword and swinging it right into the warg's maw as it finally made the move to turn her into a meal.
It yowled, pawing at its already ruined face and retreating several steps. It was enough to give Bilba a moment to try and figure out what she was going to do.
The answer, apparently, was cry out as Azog's mace caught her in her shoulder.
The one that she had already dislocated and set. Fire burned from the inside out as she landed against the rocks with a cry. Her sword rattled against the ground further off, out of reach and leaving her nearly defenseless. She still had her daggers, but she didn't have the current dexterity to reach either of them.
Her only options were her sword, the burning trees around them…
Or Thorin's oaken shield; the one that had given him his infamous deed-name. It had slipped from the fallen prince's grip, lying next to his prone form. Considering that Thorin was closer than her sword, Bilba only saw one option.
She scrambled back the best she could, reaching for the shield as Azog advanced, mace at the ready for another blow.
In the split second she had to grasp it and swing it up to her defense, Bilba realized too late that the branch was much heavier than she'd initially thought. Azog's mace came down; the snap that followed- not from the weapon but from her own body- had the hobbit crying out in pain.
Bilba sobbed out a heaving breath, dizzy as she tried to move away. By the look in Azog's eye, he had chosen her as his next victim, barely glancing in Thorin's direction as the warg prowled toward her. From her current position, she couldn't tell if the prince was breathing.
The company was fighting, but they were cut off from her by the rest of the orcs. No aid would be arriving from them unless they managed to gain some supernatural strength to break through the line.
She couldn't afford to think of them at the moment. Not while she was being hunted by her current opponent. Adrenaline surged in her veins as she readied the shield again, nearly dropping it from numb fingers. Azog had yet to dismount his warg, which she supposed was some kind of blessing in disguise as the mace rattled her already burning nerve endings against the shield.
Frantically, she looked for whatever weapon she could to try and defend herself. Her bow she had already lost, but her sword was now close enough that she might be able to just grasp it if she tried. All she knew, deep in her chest, was that she would make sure these bloody, confusticated dwarrow got to their mountain even if it was the last thing she did.
Azog chuckled darkly as he slid off of his warg, still speaking that dark language that reminded her of oil dripping, approaching the hobbit. At this distance, the pale orc wasn't just tall, he was massive, blotting out the sky above her as she scrambled backward- toward the edge of the cliff.
There weren't any other options; to the left, there were orcs. To the right, fire that she felt the heat from at a point she found almost intolerable. In front of her, Azog the Defiler; a beast of legend who only had eyes for the Hobbit who stood between him and claiming the head of a member of the line of Durin.
The orc seemed to realize that she was waning, a victorious sneer on his features as he stepped toward her. Behind him, his warg snarled, a nightmare come to life with the fire blazing behind it. A pitiful noise of fear left her throat as she reached for her sword, fingers fumbling with the hilt of it as she struggled with the weight of the shield and the proximity of the orc.
She'd only just managed to get her fingers around it when a thick hand wrapped around her ankle.
Let it be known she would not be going down without a fight.
She twisted, catching the side of the pale orc's head and slicing through his ear, if the snarl she received was any indication. Metal collided with her belly despite her best effort to shield herself, still stubbornly clinging to Thorin's shield. Dazed, she could do nothing against Azog as he closed the distance between himself and the edge of the cliff, dangling her over the empty air with something akin to indifference crossing his gruesome visage.
Black Speech wasn't something that she understood, but as they said; "action speaks louder than words". Azog's actions certainly suggested something, Bilba couldn't help but think hysterically, the orc baring his teeth once more at something over his shoulder before hurling her over the edge of the cliff.
She dropped with a shrill cry, the additional weight of the shield and her pack aiding in dropping faster still. Gravity pulled all of the wounds she'd collected as tears were drawn from her. There was nothing to prevent knowing what was coming, this time.
Was this how she was meant to die?
She felt, more than heard, the shrill cry of an eagle, vision whiting out as she collided- hard- onto something very large and decidedly feathered. The blow was lessened ever so slightly by the pack that had somehow managed to remain on her shoulders throughout the bloody battle, but it wasn't enough to stop her cry of pain from her left side as every nerve locked up.
Nearly delirious with pain, Bilba would do little more than feel the wind in her hair and across her skin as she flit in and out of consciousness, distantly aware that Gandalf must have had a hand in whatever had occurred. From her current position, she was only just able to see the figures of the company, each clutched in talons or on the back of great eagles. Somewhere just out of reach, Bilba felt as though she knew the name of their master, but it skirted just out of reach as quickly.
Mountains changed to gentle greens and lush forests, valleys of waterfalls and plains blooming as the eagles flew for hours. Bilba must have succumbed to sleep or unconsciousness for several periods, for the next time she could say she was quite awake was as the eagle beneath her banked, looping around a tall rock that jutted into the sky. Blurred vision aside, the hobbit could see eagles landing to deposit their cargo on the deceptively large plateau.
The eagle carrying her seemed to know that she was in no shape to be moving on her own, doing several easy turns before finally descending, landing fully and bowing forward.
Gentle hands pulled her from the back of the mighty being; Bilba let out a piteous noise in the back of her throat as her injured side was jostled, her pack removed from her shoulders, voices soothing her as she was brought to solid ground, pulled against someone's chest.
"Aye, there's a good lass." Bofur hummed as she blinked open her eyes, the fight long since drained from her exhausted limbs. "You just hang tight now, Gandalf's tending to Thorin."
"Dori?" she croaked. "Nori? Ori?"
"We're here, Bilba." Dori's voice was a balm, coming from somewhere nearby. "You just rest, now. You've gotten into far too much trouble than you needed to today."
"'loody dwarves are getting to the mountain whether I've to drag you there myself." She slurred, frowning as she allowed Bofur to hold her firmer. "Especially'a idiot prince."
There was a choked sound that might have been stifled laughter from somewhere behind them.
Bilba sighed as she realized that she truly was content despite the circumstances she'd found herself in. Sleep had eluded her for a great number of reasons the last handful of days. Especially since-
No.
No, she would not think of that now.
"The poor thing's exhausted." Someone clucked as she allowed her eyes to close, fussing as her sword and the shield were finally pried away from her.
Ori's familiar knit glove brushed against the hobbit's hand as he slipped his fingers between hers, holding her hand comfortingly.
Gandalf appeared before her, features twisted into concern as he and Oin both conferred over some matter or other. Gandalf must have done something to aid in her pain, for she felt some of her discomfort ease after feeling his gently calloused palm rest over her forehead. But the cool water pressed to her lips tasting faintly of herbs must have been Oin's work.
She was safe.
Nori was somewhere close by, if his disgruntled mutters were anything to go by. Bilba couldn't quite manage to open her eyes to pinpoint where her third dwarf was, but simply hearing his voice- and the rest of the company's, for that matter- was a balm for her battered spirit she hadn't realized just how badly she needed until that moment.
They were safe.
They had made it.
As she felt herself relax into the comforting hold of her friends and adopted kin, that was the thought she clung to.
They had made it.