Thank you for the lovely reaction to the last chapter, yes – I'm still here :)

In response to my guest reviewers, (1) Thank you very much, and (2) Thank you as well, but don't worry, you won't have to wait that long for an explanation! I just have an unhealthy obsession with cliff-hangers I'm afraid.

In exciting news, the lovely Yueri-chan has given me permission to use one of the awesome fanarts she created for this fic (which still gives me butterflies in my stomach, they're beautiful, beautiful, beautiful and there's a link to them on my profile so go check them out if you will) as a cover for the story! Yay!

So anyway, forgive any typos I make in this chapter, and without further ado

Read, Enjoy and Review.

Chapter Sixty Five # White Flag #

Bilbo Baggins sat in his favourite armchair with his little cousin cradled in his lap, and from the look on his face, one could easily assume that he was settling down for a nice bedtime story by the warm, crackling fire burning in the grate.

In truth, Bilbo's heart was racing faster than it had dared to race for months, and he would not be surprised if little Frodo could feel his heartbeat through his dressing gown. That being said, the little boy was shivering slightly, hence the soft blanket Kíli had tucked around his chin and the cup of milky tea in his hands, supplied by Bofur.

Given Frodo's frankly terrifying reaction to the broach, it had been silently and unanimously agreed that he should not be crowded as he tried to relay whatever nightmarish story was haunting him, so only Kíli, Fíli and Dís remained in the room. The others were all in the dining room, trying to comfort the other little ones and think of what could be done about this new threat.

Bilbo cleared his throat. "So, Frodo, can you tell us what happened? From the very beginning?"

Frodo shuddered and shrank further back into Bilbo's embrace, but he nodded slightly, his curls tickling the older hobbit's neck. "We were on the ferry…"

"Bucklebury Ferry?" Kíli asked gently when Frodo trailed off. The youngest dwarf in the house was sitting on the arm of Bilbo's chair, facing Frodo in a mirror image of his brother and mother in the opposite chair that was usually Kíli's.

Frodo nodded once more, twisting his fists into Bilbo's dressing gown and looking down into his lap. Bilbo could not see his face at all, by now. "Yes. We were coming back from Brandy Hall and it was cold and dark but not too bad. There were two hobbits arguing, I think they were called Mr and Mrs Banks but I'm not sure. I only remember because I was trying to sleep but I couldn't, so Papa asked if they would be quiet… The lady wasn't very happy, and she said "Please do stay out of this, Mr Baggins! If you knew what a complete waste of space my husband was-" and then he started yelling at her and it all went-" at this point Frodo flailed his arms in the air for a moment to make his point.

"Frodo, that sounded like you'd remembered that word for word…" Dís prompted quietly.

"It's always the same…" Frodo explained, his voice small and weak but unwavering. "Every night it's the same, over and over and over again. It's always the same."

Bilbo swallowed before his throat could tighten up too much and shifted the child on his lap ever so slightly. "What happened next, Frodo?"

"Everybody stood up." Frodo sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "The ferry was rocking lots and lots and then… Mama… Mama fell over the edge… I screamed but she was alright, she was yelling back at me and Papa was trying to get over… And then... then… the stranger came over… He gave Mama his hand and I thought it was gonna be alright, I thought he would help but he didn't, he didn't help at all!" Frodo took a deep breath as his voice began to tremble, and his fists twisted tighter around Bilbo's dressing gown. "He pushed her in more. He…he grabbed her hair and pushed her head under so she couldn't even breathe!"

It took a moment for Bilbo to remember to breathe himself as his arms locked a little tighter around Frodo. It was one thing to lose his beloved cousins to a boating accident, but this?

Somehow, Frodo kept on speaking despite the constant sniffing and shaking that told Bilbo he was crying again. "So… So I jumped into the water and I bit his hand until he let go. It was really, really cold and I thought I was gonna freeze and Mama grabbed me, but then Papa was there and he jumped in to get Mama and me… We s-swam back to the b-boat and the stranger l-leaned d-down and I begged Papa n-not to but he d-didn't understand s-so he passed me up to the stranger. The f-ferry rocked more and more and everyone l-looked away to g-grab the rails and th-then he – he – he kicked Papa, really hard and then they both went underwater again and no one c-could help! The – the stranger said that if I told anyone w-what really h-happened he would k-kill me and everybody a-around me and then he g-gave me to Mrs B-Banks! I haven't seen him ever a-again!"

By the time the little boy was finished he was sobbing freely and Bilbo pulled Frodo closer, tucking the boy's face into his shoulder and closing his own eyes for a long moment. It did nothing to stop the silent tears making their way down Bilbo's face. Across the room, Dís had closed her own eyes and rested her forehead on her fingers delicately, while Fíli stared into space with an expression of sorrow and horrible guilt. When Bilbo looked to Kíli, however, he received a shock.

His son wiped the tears from his cheeks with a trembling hand, but his eyes were ablaze with something Bilbo barely recognised. Kíli stood up slowly, one hand patting Frodo's shoulder gently while the other clenched into a fist. His jaw was set, resolute, and his furrowed brow cast shadows over his burning eyes. Kíli, his little Kíli, was always the one to forgive, the one whose default reaction to bad news was sorrow, but not this time.

This time, Kíli was angry. No, angry was not the right word.

Kíli Baggins was furious.

It unnerved Bilbo to see such fury in Kíli's brown eyes. It reminded him of the look Bilbo had received from Thorin during the whole banishment debacle.

"Frodo…" Kíli began, and Bilbo was impressed that the lad was able to keep his voice steady. "This is not your fault. Do you understand me?"

Frodo nodded miserably.

"Excuse me." Kíli said tightly, before storming out of the room. Seconds later, a loud slam reverberated through the house and once of the little ones in the other room yelped in shock.

Fíli stood up but Bilbo shook his head, standing up himself. "I'll go."

"Is Kíli angry with me?" Frodo worried, and Bilbo shook his head.

"Not at all. He is very angry, but no one is angry at you, I promise. Why don't you go with Fíli and Dís to raid the pantry and get some nice tasty biscuits for everyone?" Bilbo offered, easing the child into Fíli's open arms.

"That sounds like a brilliant idea." Dís added quietly, though her gaze flickered towards the son and she met Bilbo's eyes meaningfully.

He nodded and left the room rather quickly, shaking his head slightly and taking a deep breath to get his emotions in order before opening the door to Kíli's bedroom just in time to see his son's fist crash into a wooden beam in the wall.

"Kíli Baggins!" Bilbo yelped despite himself, but Kíli did not seem to hear him as an infuriated growl left his lips and he smashed his other fist into the wood before whirling around and kicking it fiercely with more skill than the hobbit had known his son to possess.

For a moment, Bilbo just stood there with a shocked expression and no idea of what to say or do, but then a blade appeared in Kíli's hand and he twirled around threw it violently, and the hobbit yelled out as it embedded itself into the opposite wall.

"Alright, that is enough!"

Kíli's head snapped around as if he had only just recognised Bilbo's presence, but he did not back down in guilt as Bilbo would have expected. Instead, he just turned away again, yelling through gritted teeth and kicking a nearby boot so hard that it flew against the wall with a loud bang.

"Kíli!" Bilbo closed the door behind him and stormed across the room, grabbing Kíli's shoulder. Kíli shrugged him off sharply but Bilbo persisted, grabbing one of Kíli's arms in each of his hands and forcing his son to face him. "Stop this, right now!"

Kíli's teeth clenched together and he looked away from Bilbo towards the floor, but he did not tear out of the hobbits grip again, for which Bilbo was grateful.

"Kíli…" he said firmly. "Look at me, look at me! Calm down, please!"

Kíli closed his eyes and turned his face away for a long moment, before slowly raising his eyes to Bilbo's and taking a deep breath.

"There…" Bilbo breathed. "That's better, just breathe, Kíli."

"I'm going to kill him, Bilbo!" Kíli snarled with more ferocity and bloodlust than Bilbo had ever imagined his son could have possibly possessed. "I'm going to track him down and I am going to put a sword through his stomach and an arrow through his heart!"

"Alright, alright, I don't doubt that you will!" Bilbo soothed his seething son. "There's no need for your walls to suffer in the interim!"

Kíli glanced towards the knife in the wall and a slither of guilt made its way into his eye. He took another deep breath and shook his head. "I can't believe this is happening… Bilbo, I just want to stab someone!"

"I don't blame you for that, Kíli, but you've got better control than this. You always have, remember?"

"I-" Kíli paused with his mouth open for a long moment, before hanging his head. "I'm sorry, Bilbo."

"Yes, well… We've more important things to be worrying about than the furniture. You know how to control yourself, you know better than to let anger get the better of you. Save it for when there's an enemy in front of you to fight, and even then only let a little bit out at a time or you'll explode - or you'll get distracted and stabbed or something equally awful and I just couldn't handle that, alright?" Bilbo was rather out of breath by the time he had finished.

Kíli took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Bilbo. I'm still going to impale the-" at this point Kíli spat out a twisted curse in Khuzdul – "- the first chance I get."

"Fair enough. Though I don't care how old you are, if you speak words like that around any of the little ones, so help me I'll wash your mouth out with soap!" Bilbo warned seriously, bringing a slight twitch of a smile to Kíli's cheeks.

"Understood."

"Good. Now, let's go." With that, Bilbo patted Kíli's shoulder, turned and strode out of the room, leading his son to the kitchen and giving thanks that he was never on the receiving end of Kíli's anger.

"…and then, all of a sudden, the floor collapsed beneath him and Kíli fell through a giant hole!" Fíli cried dramatically, drawing a gasp from the six children watching the young dwarf with wide eyes. The golden haired prince was standing in the middle of Bilbo's table in a slight crouch, as though he were about to spring into action, using elaborate gestures to act out the story as he told it. "I raced over and looked down and there he was, on a whole mountain of gold, so I jumped down after him, and do you know what he did? He asked me to grab a large golden tray for him and then he shoved me onto it! Before I knew what was going on, I was sliding down a pile of treasure on a golden tray like this!" Fíli's hand swept through the air in a swift, wide arch, and the children looked entranced. "It was brilliant, so we climbed up to do it again and again and again!"

As the story seemed to be winding down, Bilbo cleared his throat. "Fíli, just what do you think you are doing on my dining room table?"

Fíli froze like a rabbit before shrinking back slightly and raising his arms up in an elaborate pantomime of innocence, making the little ones giggle. "Storytelling?"

"And that's a decent excuse for trampling on the table?" Bilbo raised his eyebrows, refusing to allow his smile to show as the Kíli, Saradoc, Esme, Paladin, Ellie and the little ones snickered.

Fíli smiled angelically, though his gaze flickered over to his brother with a little worry. "Yes?"

"Down, now." Bilbo rolled his eyes as Fíli hopped down. "What would your mother say?"

Dís emerged from the direction of the bathroom, raising her eyebrows at her eldest son. "Fíli? What would I say to what?"

A flicker of genuine worry passed over Fíli's face and the children laughed as he floundered for a cover. "I – uh, um, well – there was… a, um-"

Dís and Bilbo exchanged a look, the pair of them silently agreeing to ease Fíli's torment mercifully.

"So, who's up for a nice cooked breakfast? It's always better to think about these horrible things when you've got a full stomach." Bilbo clapped his hands together and kept his tone light. "I'll need some people to help in the kitchen, some to set the table, some to get all the beds made, we need to get dressed and the floor could do with a sweep."

There was a little indignation at such a long to-do this, but no one outright complained and Bilbo was glad – he planned to keep everyone busy until they had received a good breakfast. Hopefully it would give everyone a little normalcy and something to keep their imaginations from running away with them before they could sit down and talk rationally about the horrible business they needed to discuss. Bilbo made sure that the jobs were delegated fairly and did his best to organise everyone, before walking up to Fíli.

"I have a favour to ask you."

Fíli frowned. "Of course…?"

"Your brother has a serious amount of pent up aggression and I know I normally roll my eyes at the pair of you, but you couldn't take him into the back and let him hit you for five minutes could you?" Bilbo asked concernedly.

For a moment, worry flickered in Fíli's eyes but he grinned regardless. "I will get right onto that, Master Baggins."

Bilbo smiled and squeezed his shoulder for a minute. "Good lad."

The hobbit made his way across towards Saradoc, unable to help a small smile as Fíli bellowed across the room.

"Little brother! We have a job to do!"

"Come over here, Saradoc." Bilbo instructed as the others began their various tasks.

With a slightly confused expression, the Brandybuck joined Bilbo in the living room, sighing with fond exasperation as the older hobbit pulled his little medical box down from the shelf. "Bilbo-"

"Sit down and be quiet." Bilbo ordered calmly, pointing at his own armchair and Saradoc sighed, knowing better than to argue when Bilbo was in a force-to-be-reckoned-with mood.

"You don't need to trouble yourself, Cousin Bilbo, I'm fine." Saradoc insisted as Bilbo poured a little ointment onto a small section of soft cloth.

"Saradoc Brandybuck, I know full well that you're too stubborn to look after them properly by yourself, and this is at least partly my fault – it's no trouble. Besides, I'm sure that by now I've cleaned and tended to just as many of your scraped knees and bloody elbows as your own parents have." Bilbo reasoned with a wry smile, dabbing as the younger hobbit's bloody nose.

Saradoc winced at the sting of the ointment, but he did not flinch away as he had when he was a child. "I think you've probably tended to more of my scraped knees and bloody elbows than my own parents – you never fussed as badly as my mother."

Bilbo rolled his eyes fondly. "If I fussed as badly as your mother every time one of the four of you came running to me with a scrape or a bruise I probably would have already had several heart attacks."

"I suppose…" Saradoc laughed slightly, wincing a little more. "Ow…"

"Sorry," Bilbo replied automatically. "But it's better if it stings now and you don't die of infection."

Saradoc chuckled a little once more. "That's our Cousin Bilbo, always looking on the bright side of life."

"Yes, well someone has too." Bilbo teased, wincing himself as Saradoc hissed in pain at the touch of the soft fabric on the bridge of his nose. The older hobbit softened his tone. "Saradoc, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, truly, Bilbo." Saradoc promised, instantly recognising that Bilbo's apology was not for the temporary pain. "I wouldn't keep my mouth shut."

"That's as maybe, but-"

Saradoc cut Bilbo off, grabbing his hand gently and staring into the older hobbit's eyes. "There isn't a 'but' that matters, Bilbo Baggins. I don't care if you and Kíli drew this trouble towards us – you didn't do it intentionally, and having the honour and joy of having you and Kíli as part of my family outweighs any trouble you could bring."

For a moment, Bilbo could not respond for the lump in his throat, but then he managed a smile. "Thank you, Saradoc. I'm… I'm glad you think so…"

Saradoc smiled sadly and let go of Bilbo's wrist, allowing him to return to tending the wounds on his face. "We all do, you know. We all love you."

"Well, I love you all too." Bilbo replied honestly, grabbing a fresh piece of cloth and a slightly different ointment to apply to the growing bruise on Saradoc's jaw. "Oh, I'm glad your parents are still living in Brandy Hall. This really would give your mother a heart attack…"

"Nah, she'd just clip me around the ears and lock me away in a bedroom in Brandy Hall for the rest of eternity." Saradoc quipped lightly.

Bilbo rolled his eyes once again and Merry scampered into the room, now dressed in a blue shirt and some red trousers of Frodo's. Both were too big for the little boy, who was a good few inches shorter than his cousin, but Bilbo doubted it bothered the child as he rested his chin on the arm of his father's chair, staring up at Saradoc as Bilbo continued his work.

"What job are you not doing then, Merry?" Saradoc raised his eyebrows.

"I'll go help in a little bit." Merry promised, reaching out and taking a hold of Saradoc's sleeve absently. "Papa, are you hurting much?"

"I'm fine, it's just – OW, Bilbo!" Saradoc yelped as Bilbo's hand slipped and banged against his tender nose. Merry's eyes widened in horror and Bilbo cursed his bad timing, but Saradoc was quick to smile and run a hand through his son's hair. "It's a little bit sore when you touch my nose, but I'm absolutely fine. Bilbo's overreacting, like Grandma Menegilda does."

"I'm not overreacting." Bilbo rolled his eyes at Merry to ensure that the frightened little boy knew there was no cause for worry. "All injuries need to be cleaned, from little tiny cuts and bruises to big horrible war wounds. These really aren't too bad, but your Papa is too silly to look after them himself."

"It's alright, Merry." Saradoc promised, but the child could not quite copy his father's smile.

"I thought… I thought he was… I thought he was gonna hurt you very badly, Papa…" Merry confided in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. "I thought they were gonna make you leave, like Frodo's parents…"

Saradoc's face crumpled for a second but Bilbo was impressed by the speed at which the child's father regained his composure. Bilbo himself had to look away until he had blinked the tears out of his eyes.

"I'm not going to leave you, Merry. I promise." The hobbit stroked his son's hair gently. "Everything is going to be alright, you'll see. We'll pop down to the meadow at noon and we'll figure out what to do, and everything will be just fine."

"Can you really promise that, Papa?" Merry's lip trembled as he looked to his father, and despite his question there was faith flickering in his eyes – the faith of a child that their parent could fix anything, really, if they put their mind to it. "There were lots of them..."

Saradoc grinned. "Of course I can."

Merry nodded, looking a little more contented as he turned to the older hobbit. "Uncle Bilbo, can I borrow Sting?"

Bilbo almost dropped the jar of ointment in his hands at the sombre request. "Wh-what? What on earth would you want with my sword, Meriadoc Brandybuck?"

"To poke the dwarf that hurt Papa in the backside."

Saradoc roared with laughter and Bilbo barely resisted the urge to smack his palm to his forehead. "No, you most certainly cannot poke the dwarf that hurt your Papa with Sting, no matter how much he may deserve it. Now go and help set the table before I tell your mother that you suggested such a thing!"

"Mama would just be proud." Merry insisted with a cheeky grin, and Bilbo grinned back.

"Fine then, I'll tell Auntie Ellie. And Grandma Menegilda as well, for that matter."

Saradoc laughed again as Merry gave a little gasp of horror.

"I'll go help now!"

Bilbo shook his head as Merry dashed out of the room. "Your son has spent far too much time with mine."

"Ah well, there's nothing wrong with a bit of spirit." Saradoc grinned.

"Yes, but I wouldn't put it past Merry to try and act on something like that if he was frightened enough, and that worries me greatly." Bilbo pointed out. "Right, you're all done."

"Thank you, Bilbo." Saradoc rolled his eyes as he stood up, clamping a hand onto Bilbo's shoulder. "If you want to get dressed, I'll cover for you in the kitchen."

Bilbo gave a weary laugh. "Thank you."

Breakfast was a depressingly solemn occasion with even little Pippin listening to the serious discussions of the adults. The mood did not really improve over the course of the morning, though it was not for a lack of trying.

Noon seemed to take an age to arrive, but when it did Bilbo's stomach retracted into a horrible, tangled bundle of nerves. Walking down to the meadow had never been so nerve-racking before, and by the time they arrived the rest of Hobbiton were already there. The quiet, agitated conversations all ceased as Bilbo and his family arrived and his already troubled stomach swooped with guilt. It seemed like the whole village were there, though some seemed to have left their children at home, and though he had lived among these folk for his whole life, Bilbo found so many unreadable faces in the crowd.

It was Odo Proudfoot who spoke first and broke the silence. "Good afternoon… I take it you've all been told what happened this morning?"

Bilbo nodded and cleared his throat, speaking for his family. "Yes, we have been told."

"Then you know it's your fault!" Otho Sackville-Baggins shot fiercely, but before Bilbo could apologise, the vast majority of the residents of Hobbiton turned and glared at the hobbit.

"Thank you, Otho," Odo said shortly, before softening his icy tone. "But we've already established that most everyone here places no blame on you, Bilbo, nor do we blame any of your dwarves."

Bilbo's mouth almost fell open in shock, and for a moment he was not sure that he had quite heard Odo correctly. He swallowed and shook his head slightly. "Thank you… I am sorry, I truly am, whether you blame us or not this would not have happened if-"

"If Kíli wasn't a prince." Rosa Goodchild called strongly. "And yet neither Kíli nor his dwarves have any control over that – being born into a royal family is hardly a choice, so it was hardly your fault this happened."

"If it makes you feel any better," Robin Smallburrow volunteered, "You could think of yourselves as a honey jar on a picnic. It may well attract some nasty flies and bees, but it isn't the honey's fault if someone gets stung and everyone's much better off with the honey there."

Bilbo could see Kíli fighting back tears as he replied, though he doubted many others noticed. "I do not think that anyone is 'better off' if that means they're put in danger."

"You know, we were told long, long ago that you'd bring nothing but trouble because you were a dwarf. Some people even predicted that you'd bring everyone to trouble." Hugo mused thoughtfully, looking to several of his companions. "But then we all decided long ago that we didn't care that you're a dwarf at all."

A little nostalgic grin flickered across Rosa's face as she piped up. "You're our friend."

Dudo, the younger brother of Drogo Baggins smiled sadly. "And if they want to take you away from us like that, they can suck eggs."

"I hope that you still want to stand with us." Robin continued.

"It doesn't matter that you're a dwarf," Milo announced solemnly, his baby son in his arms. "And it doesn't matter that we're hobbits."

Of all the reactions Bilbo had expected from his neighbours, such fierce loyalty had not been one of them. Blinking back tears, he glanced at Kíli. The anger in his son's eyes had been replaced by memory and grief and warmth and pain nostalgia and fear, and if he had to use one word, Bilbo would say that Kíli looked lost.

"I…I don't…I don't understand…" Kíli's voice would have seemed strong if he had not started his sentence several times, and Bilbo's eyes were drawn to his son's hand, which was clutching his brother's sleeve tightly. "This isn't… this isn't how I thought…"

"You thought we'd all react as poorly I did two decades ago?" Old Odo smiled sadly.

"You'd be right too!" Kíli protested. "You'd be right to lock your doors and-"

"Oh, poppycock!" Bell Gamgee snorted with no trace of her usual decorum. "Mister Fíli, do us all a favour and give your brother a good clip around the ears. Master Odo explained earlier that we look after our own. The fact that we now have no idea how to do so won't stop the most of us from trying. Alright?"

Bilbo could not hide his grin as Kíli nodded meekly.

Odo spoke up once again. "From this whole mess, we have only one thing to ask of you."

Bilbo shook his head slightly. "And what might that be?"

"What do we do, Bilbo?"

The hobbit swallowed and looked to his companions. Unsurprisingly it was Fíli who stepped forward, the glint of the sun on his golden hair reminding Bilbo of a crown. The heir to the throne of Erebor had become almost as popular as his brother with the people of Hobbiton, and not for the first time Bilbo was struck by the charisma Fíli could summon with a calm yet powerful voice.

"There are several paths we may take now, and nobody is going to force anyone down a path they do not wish to follow. If we are careful and clever, I believe that we might be able to push back against these people so that they never trouble the Shire again - without anyone getting hurt, but if people want to stay out of it that is completely understandable. We'll have to set up a safe place somewhere easily defendable for the women and children anyway, so anyone who wishes to remain uninvolved can shelter there. I don't want it to come down to violence, believe me, I truly don't, but with people like this there's always a danger of it. Perhaps we may be able to have the advantage of numbers, but they will undoubtedly have more experience and more violence in their blood."

Bilbo shuddered at the thought of battles breaking out among his beautiful hills, but Kíli paused, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "Rosa, are you still the fastest runner in Hobbiton?"

"Where do you need me to go?" she replied instantly.

"To the stables – take two of the ponies, the two white ones are the fastest and make for Bree as fast as you can. See if you can find a ranger, and if you do tell them what happened. If you get into any trouble, run as fast as you can until you find a decent hiding place. Take someone with you…"

"I'll go," Andwise Gamgee stepped forward, nodding at his brother's sister-in-law. "I know a thing or two about ponies, and I'm not the slowest hobbit in town."

Kíli nodded, evidently satisfied by the choice. "Keep your heads down, trust your instincts and go as fast as you can."

The two hobbits exchanged a glance and nodded.

"We'll be back well before the end of the week." Rosa promised, already backing away. "With help, if we can find it."

"Thank you," Kíli nodded sombrely as his gaze followed his departing friends. He looked back to his brother, who nodded slightly, stepped forward and clapped his hands together.

"So, here are our options…"

As Fíli began to sketch out the various potential courses of action, Bilbo tried to wrap his head around the rapt attention of the folk of Hobbiton.

What has he done to the Shire? He wondered in amazement as he stared at his solemn son.

"Uncle Bilbo…" Frodo whispered from his place on Bilbo's hip. "Uncle Bilbo, people look like they're gonna want to fight…"

"Well, I don't think anyone wants to fight." Bilbo replied in a hushed tone. "But it does look like many are prepared to, if that is what it takes. It won't be that bad though, you'll see. You're going to be just fine, Frodo."

"It's not me I'm worried about." The little boy mumbled, sticking his thumb in his mouth.

"You don't need to worry about anyone, Frodo." Bilbo said firmly, a wry smile flickering across his face despite himself as he looked at Fíli and Kíli, then to the other three dwarves standing grimly behind him. "We are in good hands."

And that is where I shall leave you for tonight. I hope you enjoyed that chapter, I enjoyed writing it.

This chapter is named after the song "White Flag" by Dido, which kind of alludes to the feel I wanted to create with the way everyone in Hobbiton is feeling, with the lyrics to the chorus

"I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be."

Though in a platonic sense of love :) Some of the other lyrics are also relevant, but others not so much. That's the sort of feel I was aiming for, so I hope it worked!

Please, do let me know what you think if you have the time and inclination to, reviews really do make my day :D