Hey there! I'm actually on time tonight – yippee! I'll admit, I never thought I'd make it twenty chapter in twenty days, but here we are. Please forgive any typos made by my tired fingers, I hope you'll like this chapter.
Chapter Twenty: Those We Leave Behind
A pair of deep, blue eyes watched Bilbo, Kíli and Dís leave the porch, their feet scuffing against the ground. The eyes narrowed, and their owner's fingers tightened around the branches of the tree she perched in. She shifted without making a sound, and watched a pair of young hobbits dive from the cover of the bushes and scurry across the porch, their heads bowed in frantic discussion. When they had gone, she dropped to the forest floor below, as soft and quick as a shadow.
Nelly straightened up, and dusted off her dress. Something had to be done. Bilbo Baggins would not take the ring.
Not this time.
It was mid-afternoon by the time Bilbo found Fíli - or rather by the time Fíli allowed himself to be found. He was sitting on the edge of a small bridge, his bare feet skimming the water below. His eyes were fixed on the flowing water, and he did not move them when Bilbo approached.
"Can I sit with you?" Bilbo asked quietly.
Fíli nodded, once.
Heart aching, Bilbo sat down, and let his own legs dangle over the edge of the bridge. His feet did not reach the water. "Where's Frodo?"
The dwarf shrugged, and then sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I'm not sure. He left me a while ago. Wanted to be alone. I couldn't argue with that. He won't be far."
Bilbo closed his eyes and hung his head. After a long moment, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. "Fíli, I understand why you're upset. I understand why you are angry."
"Do you?" Fíli said, his voice deceptively mild.
"Yes, and I am sorry. Such a quest as this – it's no there and back again, no treasure hunt. And when, when I go, that will cause you pain, and worry. But at the end of the day, I'm just one little hobbit who got swept off the path –"
Fíli turned, staring incredulously at him. "You think I am merely sad because you are taking on the quest? Do you think me that naïve?"
Bilbo blinked, and started to stammer. "No, well, I – I didn't mean – no-"
"You are not thinking," Fíli said, gripping Bilbo's wrist. There was such deep sorrow in his eyes, such fear, that Bilbo could hardly stand to see it, but he could not look away. "I have known the sacrifice of the soldier since I was a child. I learnt it when I was five years old, and my father was slain by orcs when he tried to welcome Thorin home. I know that there is sometimes no choice but to leave the ones you love, and that such sacrifices should be viewed with honour, and not anger. I would not hinder you from this quest, or walk away like a child simply because it upsets me. But you've chosen a path that will sunder us, and that is harder to bear."
It felt as though shards of ice had been tipped into Bilbo's stomach, sharp as razors and colder than death. "What are you talking about?"
"Kíli will go with you," Fíli murmured, holding tighter onto Bilbo. There were tears in his eyes, and in his voice, and Bilbo felt his own heart breaking further. "And there will be no 'if's, 'how's, or 'but's. Should you leave him behind he would follow you by stealth 'til the ends of the earth. And so would I, Bilbo, I would follow you until my feet bled and all the strength was gone from my body, if I could. But – I can't. If there is to be war, if the mountain is in danger, both heirs to the throne cannot go on a journey to Mordor. Not on a quest like this. One of us must return to Erebor."
Horror struck Bilbo in the throat at the thought of his boys separated, at the thought of either of them journeying to Mordor when they could stay safe in Rivendell, or even journey to Erebor Mountain. Even in times of war, the mountain would be safer than Mordor, especially with Thorin and his army to protect them. He shook his head, and tried to clear the lump from his throat.
"I would have you both in the mountain," he said, sifting Fíli's grip so that he could hold the young dwarf's hand. "Or I would have to stay here, stay safe. I do not want either of you to come with me." The words felt painful to say, because he did want them with him. He never wanted to part from his sons, ever, but he would sooner do that than see them in peril.
"But that is not going to happen," said Fíli, bowing his head. "You know it won't. Kíli will go with you. And I – I have to go home. I must protect our people. If we deem two lives greater than the lives of thousands, we have no right to rule. Even, even if the value is such in our hearts. So, so, I will not be able to protect my brother, and I will not be able to protect my father, and I may lose you both."
At this, Fíli squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his head against Bilbo's chest. Bilbo could feel the lad shaking, feel his breath come quick and uneven. Swallowing, Bilbo wrapped his arms around Fíli and tugged him gently into a more comfortable position, resting the prince's head on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, my dear, dear Fíli. I – I did not think – I didn't…" Bilbo sighed, and pressed his forehead into Fíli's hair. "This is not a position I ever wanted to put you in."
He felt Fíli's body heave as he took a deep breath. "I am sorry for walking away as I did. It was not very mature, or courteous. But when I realised what my duty would have me do, when I realised that I would have to surrender the care of you and Kíli to others…"
Shaking his head, Bilbo held Fíli a little tighter. He took a deep breath of his own, and found that when he spoke, he was unashamed of the tremor in his voice. "I am so proud of you."
Fíli stiffened, and raised his head. "What?"
"I am so proud of you," Bilbo repeated with a sad smile, unable to stop himself from tucking Fíli's hair behind his ear, and squeezing the prince's forearm. "You have come so far, and suffered so much, yet you are one of the strongest, most selfless people I have ever had the honour of meeting. It is the greatest honour that I could imagine to be called your father."
Fíli's eyes filled with tears, and then he threw his arms around Bilbo and hugged him so hard that the hobbit feared for his ribs. Someday soon, one of his dwarves would break him.
And chances were that he would not care about breaking then, either.
Telling the others of the dealings of the council did nothing to comfort Dís. Their horror, their fury and even their confusion just drummed home the reality of what was going on.
She had shut down all possibilities of discussion for the day – they were to wait at least until the morning before they made any more decisions. She said it was to allow them room to think. She knew that few among them would have the strength to think clearly.
At dusk, her aching feet seemed to be trying to compete with the pain in her heart as they dragged her towards the room she shared with Bilbo. There was a horrid emptiness in her stomach, that would not disappear no matter how tightly she was held.
She wanted to protect her son and her husband on the path to Mordor. She wanted to protect her older son on the path to Erebor. And she knew that she had to choose.
Bilbo wanted her to go back to the mountain, or to stay here – and of course he did. Bilbo wanted everyone to be safe, but he saw his own safety as optional. It was one of the reasons that she ought to go with him. He needed someone there to watch his back when it did not obviously need watching. And Kíli was her baby. She had already lost him once, and if there was anything at all she could do to stop that from happening again, she would do it.
But she had almost lost Fíli, too, and he had been injured so badly, so recently, he was more vulnerable. He needed her too. She also had Frodo to think about – the boy clung to her like a mother, and she could not turn her back on him, either.
In her mind, the decision had been made, and as much as she had listened only to her own counsel, it felt as if she had no choice. Her arms wound tighter around her body, and she pushed open the bedroom door with her shoulder.
It was dark – the curtains were draped over the windows.
She was Dís, daughter of Una, and of Thráin, son of Thrór. Daughter of sacrifice, granddaughter of suffering. Now, more than ever, she could not help but wonder if the blood that ran through her veins, the blood of Durin himself, was nothing more than a curse.
She hated the world for making her choose. She loathed destiny for tearing her sons apart again, for tearing them from her. She despised fate for taking her first husband, and then dragging her second away. She even reviled her father, for teaching her that princesses could not be weak. For teaching her that princesses could not cry unless someone was dead or dying.
It was scarce five o'clock, but Dís changed into a nightgown and sat on the bed, raising her knees up to her chin like a child. She stared at a small crack on the wall, an imperfection that the elves had missed. Her eyes closed, but sleep would not come and rescue her.
Instead, thoughts of every tale of Mordor that she had ever heard swam before her eyes. She imagined her little Kíli and her Bilbo climbing over rocks as sharp as razors, and dodging fires that leapt from the ground. Horrors worse than orcs, worse than Black Riders…
Her stomach churned and she pulled herself in tighter.
Come now, she chided herself. You are stronger than this. You cannot fail, you cannot crumble. You don't have that right. You have work to do.
The soft swish of the door opening brought her gaze up to fall on Bilbo. He was silhouetted against the light from the hall, but he quickly bustled in, and shut the light out behind him.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I did not realise you were-"
"I wasn't sleeping," she interrupted quietly. "Did you find the boys?"
He nodded, and strode across the room with a bowed head. "Aye. They aren't happy, either of them. Fíli understands better than Frodo does. Frodo thinks he's all grown up now that he's of age, but he has so much to learn. And Dís – you know I am sorry, don't you? You know that I don't want to go to Mordor and-"
"Yes," she said, placing a hand on his knee. "I know. I understand. And I am proud of you. But it still hurts, Bilbo."
"I know," he murmured miserably. "This truly has been a terrible month, and not at all the sort of commotion I'd hoped to stir with Frodo's party."
Despite herself, Dís had to smile. "No, I do not think anyone quite expected this."
"We're missing dinner."
"Trust a hobbit – I'm fine. I'm just not hungry."
She closed her eyes, and heard Bilbo's fingers tap softly against the bedframe. He took several intakes of breath as if he was about to speak, and she counted five before any words actually emerged. "Amrâlimê…" Then he fell silent again. Khuzdul always sounded a little odd from the mouths of the hobbits, but it was something that she found endearing. It had never failed to make her smile, to hear Bilbo call her his love. Never until today. Today it just squeezed vinegar into an open wound.
"I am simply tired," she said at last. "Tired, and weary of sacrificing. But I shall endure."
"I have no doubt you shall." Bilbo's voice was remarkably calm. "But you know that in the meantime it is alright to let down your burden?"
Dís opened her eyes and frowned. "Not all burdens can rest."
"But all hearts can," protested Bilbo, taking her hands. He started. "You're so cold…"
She shrugged, but her fingers wrapped around Bilbo's much warmer ones.
"Dís," he murmured, tears sparkling over his deep eyes. "I think you need to cry."
As if the suggestion had set them free, tears sprang to Dís' own eyes, and made it past her eyelashes. She closed her eyes and felt herself shake, but then she felt Bilbo's arms wrap around her, and her shakes grew to sobs. She clung to the hobbit that she loved so much, and she cried.
And as her hands wound into his hair, she knew that no number of tears would wash away her heart's stuttering belief that one of them would not be coming home.
I hope that you enjoyed that chapter! I know that not much seems to have changed, but scenes have been moved here to allow for better coming chapters :D Please do let me know what you think, I love hearing about it!