THREE:

Things got more awkward as Balin ambled in half an hour later and attempted to talk to Bilbo. By now, he was hunched up against the headboard and reading a commentary on Ethuil's version of 'the Fall of Gondolin' on his laptop and looked comfortably settled in. The oldest of the officers sighed and settled on the bunk next to Bilbo's adopted bed.

"I know you're upset," he began without preamble. "But all we want to do is our job-to the best of our ability."

"Hah!" Bilbo didn't even look up. Balin rubbed his temples.

"There are five sleeping rooms with two entry/exit points in this safehouse," he explained. "This room is by the far stair and the one closest to the communal room is closest to the main stairway. Those points need our strongest defences. So usually we put Thorin, Dwalin and I at one end and Bifur, Bofur and Bombur at the other with whoever we protect in the middle."

"Pish," Bilbo commented, gaining a perverse satisfaction at the childish jibe.

"It's good operational practice…" Balin protested.

"Like not getting me any clothes, any peace, any explanations about what is like to happen? No means to reassure my family I'm okay or anything to do that will keep me sane with you bunch of ill-mannered loud hooligans?" Bilbo shot back. There was a stunned silence.

"That's what you think of us?" Balin asked him quietly.

"What else have you shown me?" Bilbo asked him pointedly. "No introductions, no conversation, no explanation, you are intolerably loud, you colonised the main room and drove me away! Fili and Kili did nothing to reassure me when I was completely unbalanced and afraid and only Bofur and Ori have spoken to me like a real person. I didn't ask for all this!" He threw his hands up in the air. "At least back home in the Shire, people would behave with reassurance and courtesy."

"And you know because…?" Balin asked coolly.

"Because they did when my parents were killed!" Bilbo shouted at him. There was a stunned silence. "Because they were fantastic when they gave me the worst ever news. They were sympathetic, they treated me with respect, not like a problem. And they remembered I was the victim, not just a nuisance or an inconvenience that may interfere with them watching the second half!" He glared at Balin. "So I'm staying here. I like it here. I have a window, it's quiet and I can be as far away as I can be from all of you." Then he snapped his laptop closed. "Now if you don't mind, I'm turning in."

-o0o-

"He's not budging," Balin reported to the Company. Thorin scowled at him, then turned to glance at Dwalin.

"You can always bodily drag him from the room…" the burly bald-headed officer began but Balin shook his head in exasperation at his brother.

"Which is why I am the brains of the family," he sighed, turning his piercing glare on their commander. "Thorin-you are a fine leader of the Company when you are hunting but when you're standing still…you forget that he isn't one of you."

"He should do as he is ordered," Thorin growled.

"Deal with it," Balin told him bluntly. "He's not one of your men. He's not part of your story or your vendetta. He's just a man in the wrong place at the wrong time. He said to remind you that he's the victim, not an inconvenience." There was a sober pause.

"That is the case," Gloin muttered, glancing over. Fili and Kili shared a look.

"He's right," Kili murmured.

"None of us noticed he had slipped away,' Fili added with a guilty look. "Look, if it makes it easier, we could room with him and…"

Thorin folded his arms across his chest, his face stern as he weighed the options. Then he gave a single, slight nod.

"You will share the room-but I will sit in there for the night until we can discuss this further in the morning," he decided. "Two guards at all times-one on surveillance and one on patrol in the safehouse. Four hour shifts. Bifur, Nori-you've got first shift." The men nodded as Balin glared at him.

"And Bilbo?" he hissed.

"I'll try not to scare him to death tonight," Thorin promised gruffly, his eyes hard. "But I will do what is necessary to keep him alive, Balin. We all know how cruel and sadistic Smaug is. Whatever plan he has, I won't allow another to be slaughtered and discarded in his schemes." The older man patted his shoulder reassuringly.

"I know," Balin sighed. "But just remember Bilbo isn't part of this world. And maybe…explaining why this is happening would work better than trying to order him."

"Because that's gone so well so far," Bofur murmured. Thorin ignored him.

"Any news?" he asked as the rest of the Company gathered around the table for a debrief-except Bombur who was starting on patrol.

"Surprisingly little," Nori said, scratching his neck. "Usual rumours. Everyone knows Gundabad are on the warpath at the moment but no one is clear who has crossed them. Mirkwood and Moria are the most likely candidates…"

"But neither make sense," Gloin commented. "Moria and Gundabad are tight allies. Mirkwood never crosses into Firewyrm interests-they got burned years ago and diversified to other fields."

"There was the suggestion that Firewyrm have some sort of new project in progress," Nori added. "No one's heard much but there is anxiety among the lower level thieves."

"Firewyrm making any move usually means losses for anyone in competition," Dori added.

"Keep digging," Thorin advised them. "We're not seeing the picture." He shook his head, scowling again. "What are you planning, Smaug? What treachery are you plotting?"

-o0o-

Bilbo woke as his phone buzzed and then gave a familiar jingle and he automatically flailed an arm, snagging it and hauling it to his ear.

"Morning, Prim," he murmured sleepily.

"Where have you been?" his cousin asked him, her voice concerned and not a little tart. Bilbo yawned.

"Asleep?" he tried.

"You sound dreadful!" she scolded him. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

"Thanks. Makes me feel so much better," he snarked.

"Now there's my cousin," Primula Brandybuck-Baggins said smugly. "I've been trying to get hold of you since yesterday morning." Bilbo blinked and sat up abruptly. His phone had been off in the police station and after he had switched it back on, he had no reception in the main part of the safehouse-only here, by the window. There were no missed calls.

"You have?" he asked, frowning and then gave a yelp and scurried back until he was sitting with his back pressed hard against the headboard and knees drawn up to his chest. Thorin was sitting on a wooden chair by the door of the room, his arms folded across his chest and scowling magnificently at him. He looked tired and dishevelled though and Bilbo would have asked him a very pointed question about what precisely he was doing there if his cousin hadn't continued.

"Yes. There's been a delivery at Bag End for you," she reported. "Some Recorded Delivery parcel. You didn't mention you have anything coming…"

"Because I didn't…" Bilbo frowned and then cleared his throat. "Delivery? What?"

"A box," Primula reported as Bilbo held the phone away from his ear so Thorin could hear as well. "Blank, Black. Addressed to 'Mr B Baggins'. No sender or return address." His stomach fluttering with fear that he hated but which was becoming increasingly familiar when things happened that made no sense, Bilbo looked up again and met Thorin's eyes. The Ereborean officer shook his head, a frown furrowing his brow.

"I didn't order anything, Prim," he murmured. "I didn't expect anything." Thorin rose slowly and walked closer, crouching by the bed as Bilbo switched the call to loudspeaker.

"It's taken all my powers of persuasion to stop Drogo or Frodo opening it," Prim reported, sighing. Thorin urgently shook his head.

"Keep them away from it," Bilbo told her urgently.

"Why?" his cousin asked immediately.

"Because…" And then he paused.

"Mrs Baggins," Thorin said clearly, his voice as calm as he could manage. "My name is Thorin. I am a friend of Bilbo…"

"Bilbo! You should have said! I wouldn't have woken you so early if I had known…"

Bilbo flushed scarlet to the tips of his ears.

"I mean, I knew there had to be a reason why you moved to Erebor but…"

"I'm sorry," Bilbo mouthed, literally dying of embarrassment.

"And when do we get to meet…?"

"Mrs Baggins-how many of you are in your household at present?" Thorin interrupted, his tone serious. There was a pause.

"Why do you ask?" Prim asked, her tone suspicious. "I would have thought Bilbo would have told…"

"Prim-please?" Bilbo replied, his tone agonised.

"My husband Drogo and my five year old son, Frodo," she replied.

"Mrs Baggins-you need to immediately pack essentials-overnight clothes, vital documents, money-and get out," Thorin told her grimly. "Do not delay for even a minute. Do not hesitate. And stay away from the package."

"Is this a joke?" Prim asked in the firm tone Bilbo had heard her use on Frodo (and Drogo) when neither was doing what she wanted them to.

"No joke," Thorin told her, his tone still calm. "Please-take your family and get out of that house now. Go and stay with relatives…"

"We'll pop in and annoy Uncle Gorbadoc," Prim decided, her voice now firmer. There were the sounds of rustling. "Bilbo-we are discussing this-and you and Thorin need to come over for tea some time. I think he needs to pass Baggins family scrutiny…" Plastering a pained smile on his face, Bilbo nodded.

"Take care, Prim. Love to Drogo and give my nephew a hug from me," he said.

"Bilbo…whatever is going on…you will tell me, won't you?" Prim asked quietly.

"I promise," he sighed. "Now stay safe. Love you."

"Love you too," she said and ended the call.

Bilbo closed his eyes and pressed his hand across his face.

"I am so sorry…" he began, unable to meet Thorin's eyes. "I don't know what came into her. Well, I do know because my entire family want to attend another wedding or engagement or…well, any party and they've all been worried about me since my parents died even though that was years ago and…" He took a deep breath. "I'll stop talking now," he said in a defeated voice. Wincing, he opened his eyes and saw Thorin had risen to walk to the window.

"It's not a problem," he said thoughtfully. "Do you use your old address for anything now?"

"No," Bilbo murmured, resting his phone on the bed. "I transferred everything over to my Erebor address. I'm even registered to vote here…"

"So you would not have any deliveries diverted there?" Thorin checked. Chewing his lip, Bilbo shook his head.

"No," he breathed and then he looked up. "You think…?" Thorin nodded.

"It doesn't take too much effort to locate family," he explained heavily. "And the Shire is known to be open and family-orientated."

"And you think the package was sent by Smaug?" Bilbo asked, his tone shaken. Thorin nodded and fished his phone from his pocket.

"Excuse me, I need to call my counterpart in the Shire," he said and then paused. "Your cousins' address?"

"Oh. Bag End, the Hill, Hobbiton," Bilbo reported and Thorin nodded, then swept from the room. Giving a pained groan, Bilbo rested his head back against the wall. "Yavanna…that was the most…"

"Mr Boggins…" He flinched as Kili's head poked over the top of the upper bunk. His brother was already grinning from the lower.

"It's Baggins," Bilbo growled.

"Did your friend just assume you and Thorin were an item?" Fili asked him pointedly. Bilbo glared at him.

"My cousin. And it was a misunderstanding since it's only six o'clock in the morning and most normal people don't have a strange man in their bedroom at that time unless there's something going on…" he began as Kili's grin widened.

"Oh, the Company are definitely going to have to hear about this!" he promised.

"No. NO!" Bilbo yelped.

"Why not?" Fili asked. "Isn't our Uncle good enough…?" Groaning, Bilbo collapsed onto his face.

"Your Uncle…you mean Thorin is actually really your Uncle? I really thought they were joking. Just perfect!" he spat, his voice muffled by the duvet. "Nope. Not saying that. He already hates me so spreading some really embarrassing assumption my cousin made will just make that worse…"

"I know Dwalin and Bifur will rupture something laughing at that one," Fili added conversationally.

"Dori would probably congratulate him," Kili put in.

"No."

"Ori too," Fili mused. "I mean, they all worry about him…"

"Isn't it against the rules to kill the person you're supposed to be protecting with terminal embarrassment?" Bilbo asked them as they collapsed laughing.

"I don't recall anything about that in the regulations!" Kili chuckled as Bilbo scrambled up, grabbed his phone and glared at them.

"I need a cup of tea," he announced and stalked out of the room. The brothers shared a look.

"Last one to tell Dwalin's an elf!" Fili said and they leapt from the bunks and raced after him.

-o0o-

There were times when Thorin felt like a fish out of water-not many, because he was usually surrounded by people who knew him well and who accepted his grumpy and reserved exterior as who he was. A couple of them could recall who he had been before-not terribly different, he was the first to admit, but less burdened by experiences that no one should have to own. Frerin and Dis had always been the extroverts, the favoured children while he…was the recipient of all the expectations of a score of generations of his family and of the increasingly restrictive demands of his father and grandsire. So he had allowed himself to become the taciturn individual who had diverted their attentions and allowed his younger siblings the freedom they deserved, retreating until it became a habit, a thick cloak he used to shield himself against worrying or caring or sometimes even feeling.

But he had been taken by surprise when Bilbo had received his phone call and he had realised that Smaug was already miles ahead of the Company. Instantly following the realisation had come the guilt, the savage silent self-castigation and the urgent need to protect the other man's family who were as wholly innocent in this horrific mess as Bilbo was. Had Bilbo mentioned them on his date? Unlikely, since he had explained that he had immediately felt the wrongness of the man facing him and had done everything to discourage him…so it was very likely that Smaug had sought them out on his own.

He glanced across to the kitchen. The Librarian had dealt with his anxiety at the situation by taking over the kitchen and was currently making a fourteen person fried breakfast with all the facility of a professional chef. Of course, the Shirelings were renowned for their immense legendary hospitality and almost mythically good cookery but Thorin hadn't ever witnessed it…until now. The previous day, in the station, Baggins had seemed completely out of his depth, lost and bewildered and the knowledge his relatives were under threat had thrown him…but the moment he arrived in the kitchen, his face had cleared. He had brewed a pot of tea, drunk two mugs straight down and then he had set to work. The entire place was full of pans, bacon sizzling, sausages browning and tomatoes cooking under the grill, eggs popping in hot fat and mushrooms sautéing. The entire warehouse was now smelling like breakfast-and that was enough to drag the Company from their beds in various states of consciousness.

He turned away and walked to the top of the back stairs, sliding out and resting his back against the metal cladding over the building. He had already called the Shire Law Enforcement Division and his opposite number had been intensely polite and just as politely scathing at failing to warn them of potential dangers to their citizens. As a Ereborean, Thorin hadn't really thought about the interconnectedness of Shire families but the Shire Officer had been icily polite-especially when Thorin had mentioned the word' Baggins'. It seemed that Bilbo was distantly related to the hereditary Civil Leader-the Thain-as well as all of the most connected and rich families in the Shire. It just made a difficult situation a thousand times worse.

He closed his eyes. The conversation hadn't been friendly but he had offered one piece of advice that could help-though he was unsure if his opposite number would even go for it. Then he sighed and rested his head back against the metal.

His vision shifted, changing from an empty car park and delivery yard behind their haven and the spiked fence surrounding an electricity substation to the flames, the explosions shaking the very fabric of the oh-so-familiar house. His younger self could hear yells, feel the heat and had dragged his siblings away, thrusting them into the escape route his father had taught them as soon as they could understand. But he had stayed after slamming the door closed behind them, had thrown himself into the battle-for all the use it had been. The numbers had been overwhelming, the opponents high on Orcblood, the lethal narcotic the Gundabads peddled all over Arda, and thought the defenders had regrouped, Thorin could still see the slice of the knife, the scarlet spray of blood and the fall of a heavy body as his own howl of rage and grief filled the air. He could feel his body lifted, hands seeming to dig into his very bones as he was hauled before the Defiler, his head dragged up and the knife raised… And then the pain followed, the eventual explosion and fire casting him aside like so much trash and leaving him for dead amid the ruins of the family home, not knowing if anyone else had survived…

"Thorin!"

He blinked and jerked away from Dwalin's hand, his head snapping round as current reality reasserted itself.

"Problem?" he asked gruffly, shoving the memories back fiercely.

"Breakfast," his friend corrected him. "You better get in before Bombur and…well, everyone else…gets there first." Thorin raised an eyebrow. "He may be a whinger but Mahal, he can cook."

"I'm not…"

"You look like shit," Dwalin told him bluntly. "And you need to eat. At least act like you're human." Thorin took a deep breath.

"I forgot how much he loves collateral damage," he murmured. "I forgot he would seek any friends and relatives…"

"It's under control now," Dwalin told him as they turned back into the house, carefully making sure the door was locked behind them.

"Is it?" Thorin asked as they walked towards the main communal area. Bombur had prepared him a plate and he took the seat at the far end of the table as Bilbo finally sat down, deftly bisecting his egg and dipping a slice of black pudding into the runny yolk.

"Thanks, Bilbo!" Bofur called, raising his mug of tea cheerfully and the thanks were echoed by all the Company. There were grins and nods and for a moment, the Librarian looked up, his eyes shining and he seemed genuinely touched by the words of the Company.

"You're welcome," he said and ducked his head, turning back to his food. Oin grabbed the remote and clicked the television on, displaying the morning news programme. Absently, Thorin lifted a piece of toast and was about to take a bite when the anchor came on.

"And in breaking news, we cross over to our correspondent in the Shire, where emergency services are dealing with the aftermath of an explosion," he said, shifting the image to a correspondent, standing in the rain with flashing blue and red lights visible behind him and a column of black smoke billowing into the weeping sky.

There was a clatter as Bilbo's knife hit his plate.

"No…" he mouthed.

"…explosion has ripped apart a Hobbiton Property in the Hill neighbourhood. There is no news of the family within but initial reports are that there are no survivors."