Pressing Flowers

Author's Note: Sorry it has taken me so long to update, I'm having a really tough month. But we seem to have a winner with the pairing, from the looks of i, between AO3, Tumblr, AFFN, and FFN Fili/Bilbo is the winner of the pole. Sorry to those Thorin/Bilbo fans, but keep an eye out for my future Bilbo/Thorin story, it'll be out in about three months. This chapter does have some triggers in it; the first few paragraphs are Bilbo dwelling on suicide, and the act of self-harm. Let it be said that I support neither of these things. I've lost 3 of some of my best friends to self-harm and suicide, so don't think I'm clueless to the after math. Three funerals to girls all under the age of 20 in a period of 9 months is a tough pill to swallow for me. Sorry it's short; this is really more of a filler-chapter than anything!

Also, if anyone has done, or plans to do any fan art for this story please make sure to contact me! I would really love to see anything you guys can throw my way! – Cas

Chapter Five: Of Forbidden Things

Bilbo Baggins sat in silence after a rather long time. He had slipped away quietly after he had signed the contract that Thorin Oakenshield had presented to him. He had hardly even glanced through the contract, but of course only seemed to read the bits about incineration and other nasty things like that. Bilbo honestly had nearly fainted, and though he had indeed paled to a lovely shade of white he simply found a quill, his trusty pot of ink and signed his name in the most neat and orderly way physically possible.

This was rash, even as a way of escape it was almost suicide, but thinking on it now wasn't that what he was aiming for? He knew now that it was likely if Gandalf hadn't visited him early that morn that he would have found a way to deal away with himself that night. His hazel eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment as he had pondered over the plans he had so carefully created in his mind. His hand tightened around the grip of his pipe just thinking about it. He knew he was a coward, running to death with gratefully open arms and tears sliding down his face. He was so close to freedom now he could almost taste it. Even if he died even if he didn't make it past Bree he knew he had done his mother proud. He had a way out.

He wasn't proud of his dwellings on taking his own life, he wasn't proud to say that he had thought about the act many 'a time. He was proud to say he hadn't but that didn't mean he didn't brood under the thought of escaping. He knew he would be hanging from the rafters, glassy eyed at the bottom of his beautiful hand crafted copper tub, or bleeding out by the stove in the kitchen. He wasn't naïve enough to even think that he wouldn't do it, the fact that he knew he would was the thing that always frightened him.

The first urge had hit him just after his father was killed, Hamfast had sworn up and down that it was an accident in the field. He had sworn that one of the horses with the plows had bowled him over, trampling him before anyone could stop it. Bilbo knew better, he knew just what the breeders and the Alphas had thought about his father for keeping him away from them. He knew just how low breeders would stoop to get what they considered theirs back into their grasp. Bilbo wasn't a fool, he knew that what Hamfast had witnessed might have looked like an accident, but Bilbo had heard the pack talking, he had heard their schemes. He simply hadn't thought that they would go through with it then.

Oh how naïve he had been then, he should have figured after the tasting what they were capable of. The second time he had been frightened by the urge, a hunger he knew he could not fulfill. He found it even more frightening when the fell winter came, no father to protect him, just his heart broken mother. An omega with no anchor to help her survive, the loss of her one had almost killed Belladonna herself. It was only a matter of time before she snapped. Bilbo had tried everything to keel Belladonna Baggins, nee Took from wondering out their door that frigid winter day. Everything had come crashing down on him after he had left his home to find her, only arriving but seconds too late. He had watched them stab his mother, maim her to make it look like a wolf had done it. But everyone knew what had happened. Bilbo had known what had happened. He would never forget, and he knew for a fact he would never forgive.

"Master Baggins!" A voice called too him suddenly, causing him to jolt back into awareness, he turned to see Bofur and the Durin heirs standing and staring at him with wide smiling faces. Bilbo couldn't help but wonder how they were so happy, honestly he found himself quite jealous, almost angered by how carefree they acted sometimes. Even just by watching them he could tell that despite their situation and their history they somehow remained to have a few extremely happy people.

Bilbo couldn't help but flush and look down. His eyes gazing back into the fire for a moment before he seemed to nod, as if deciding if he was going to acknowledge them standing there.

"Y-y-yes B-Bofur, what c-can I do for you?" He said carefully, his voice almost but a whisper. He hadn't noticed how sore his throat was until that moment, feeling dry and scratchy from more use than he was used to.

He was slightly shocked when the three trounced over to him and plopped down beside him on the large couch he had been sitting on at the time. His head had shot up to look at them, and if anyone had been looking at that time they sat down they would see a slight fear entering Bilbo's gaze and staying there until the Dwarrows turned to face him again, at that point he allowed the emotions on his face to simply slip away into a completely blank mask.

"We passed what looked like a celebration coming through the Shire, what was it?" Bofur asked suddenly. The question caused Bilbo to freeze completely, his pipe slipping from his hands. He had forgotten about that, the Calling always had a large celebration to encourage the breeders who were going to be partaking in the ceremony. The celebration lasted from sundown on the day before until sundown on the day of the ceremony.

Then suddenly as if someone had set fire under his chair he jolted up. His body moved as if he was possessed scrambling around slamming open windows, locking doors and moving frantically as if to close off Bag End from the rest of the world. All of the Dwarrows seemed to gather to watch the oddly frightening Hobbit scramble to pull shut drapes, and stared in shock as he went so far to even close the fire place.

It was as if the hobbit was preparing for a battle to take place. They watched his frightened darting until the moment that he burst back into the room and gripped Bofur by the collar pulling him down low and away from the window as if he was frightened to speak too loud. It was as if he was unaware that the Dwarrows could still hear him, but he seemed unfazed by that fact.

"We do not speak of it!" He spat in Hobbitish, not even realizing that he had spoken in the rolling graceful language. It seemed much more rigid and sharp at the moment, but even hissed out it was relaxing, calming almost. "W-W-we do not s-speak of it!" He said, his chest heaving, "N-n-never speak of it!" He said looking around even going so far as to peak out of one of his windows staying quiet to ensure he didn't hear anything outside.

"Don't speak of what Master Hobbit?" Balin spoke, obviously confused of what the ruckus was about. Other Dwarrows grumbled out confused words of agreement to the room, not really caring if they were heard or not.

"T-t-that thing Bofur a-asked ab-about!" Bilbo said through a hiss, starting to pace back and forth before the fire. Huffing and puffing from all of the scrambling he had done before. He didn't look like the stubborn burglar they had first met when they had entered his smial, but more like the scarred and broken little Halfling he always acted like. "W-w-we cannot speak of it within the b-b-boarders of the s-s-s-Shire." By the expression on Bilbo's face the Dwarrows could only wonder why they never spoke of "it" whatever "it" was.

"Oh, you mean the da-…" Bofur didn't even get the full sentence out before Bilbo's hands were covering his lips hissing at him to be quiet in Hobbitish, not even realizing that the Dwarf more than likely didn't even know what he was saying.

"Do you w-want them to h-h-host a C-c-calling Ceremony f-for your hide? They'll k-k-kill you for s-s-speaking such things d-during r-r-rutting season!" Bilbo said cautiously, looking desperately toward Bifur as if he expected the Dwarf to come for help. It was clear that Bilbo was practically trembling with fear by how easy the Dwarf was speaking about it; didn't they know how dangerous Hobbits could be during rut?

Surprisingly the Dwarf did indeed come to help. He waddled over with determination and gripped Bofur by the ear, growling in his broken ancient language in a manner that stated "mind your own business" before dragging the poor creature out of the gathering room. Bilbo didn't look at anyone for quite a while, knowing that if he did he would only be asked more questions. Questions that he did not want to answer in the slightest. Without looking at any of the Dwarrows he walked toward the door, before pausing briefly, looking over his shoulder momentarily but not meeting anyone's eye.

"Please h-h-help yourself to the p-pantry, just save e-enough so I can m-m-make something for b-breakfast before we l-leave. Also, my g-g-gardener will b-b-be here early to pick up the k-k-keys to my home, so please t-try not t-t-to frighten him." He babbled quickly, stumbling over simple words more than he had in quite some time. He wasn't feeling his best at the moment, and knew he needed to leave the room before everything came crashing down once more.

Though if he would have looked back, he would have noticed the crystal eyes of one blond headed Dwarrow following his every move. As well as the dissaproving glares that said Dwarrow's uncle was giving to him

TBC

Author's Note/End Rant: I'm about to come off as rather hostile, but I received an anonymous review and it really made me mad. I would like to start off by saying that I find you not only annoying, but offensive. The fact that you are so against me having my readers vote on a pairing. If you've ever read any of my other work you would know that I do this for every story I write. Never once have I had other reviewers/voters "attack one another through the keyboard". Sure, I may lose a few readers, but honestly if they are to set in reading a Thilbo that they stop reading my work because they care more about pairing than quality then so be it. The fact that you're going to threaten me about it is entertaining to me. If I lose you, you'll be greatly missed, but I'm not going to stop writing, or ignore the poll that has been going on since FEBRUARY on AO3 just to make you and your annoying anon review happy. Sorry love, but I think you need to get your head out of the sand it's really unbecoming and unhygienic. Plus having your ass in the air may give others the wrong idea. Tooddles poppet. - Cas