Ori half ran away from Bilbo, heart pounding as he did so. Ignoring his brothers (who were arguing yet again), he sat himself down to think things through and help to calm his racing mind. He couldn't quite believe it.

To think, their burglar a prince! He felt sick at the thought; how could it possibly be that not a single dwarf among them had realised?! True, it hadn't been obvious but now that he began to consider it, the pieces were starting to fall into place. The hobbit hole (smial as Bilbo had insisted) that was certainly larger and nicer than any others that they had passed... The fact that Bilbo - Master Baggins, he surely couldn't afford to name a fully fledged prince with such familiarity - although clearly educated, lacked any clear sign of a profession... The fancy china and the silver cutlery... And now the coat.

Mahal's hammer, the clues had been right in front of him! At the very least, he should've known that Bil-Master Baggins was a member of the nobility. And besides –

- Oh Mahal.

The fancy china. That they had thrown. All over the hobbit's nice, roomy, royal home. Not to mention the pillaging of the pantry. Ori didn't even want to think about what had happened in the bathroom, (note to self, never, ever invite Bombur over for a meal. Ever.).

Ori gulped. The behaviour towards the hobbit had not improved. Though he was certainly not treated cruelly - the company did take care to make sure that everybody was fed, healthy and well rested and none would wish harm upon him - it couldn't be denied that he was constantly mocked and excluded from the group. The look of pure surprise on Bilbo's face when Dwalin had offered his spare cloak to the drenched hobbit (though extremely comedic), was testament to how low his opinion must be of them. Even had he been a commoner, the company's actions would be reprehensible. As a royal however...

The consequences of displeasing a prince were harrowing. And unfortunately, it looked like they had done just that.

Ori had to tell Dori. He would know what to do.

"No." Dori decided firmly. "You must be wrong."

Ori glared at his brother. Disbelief he had expected, of course, but this harsh negation was unfair.

Dori shifted uncomfortably. Ori's gaze wasn't particularly fierce, he looked more like a kitten trying to be a warg than anything else - it made Dori want to coo and stroke his baby brother's hair - but he knew that Ori hated it when Dori didn't take him seriously.

"We would know! Gandalf would have told us." Dori reasoned.

"But-" Ori tried to butt in but his brother continued, determined to state his logic.

"Your only evidence is the fact that the Halfling has a big house and a full larder! He's well off, Ori. That does not magically make him a prince." He heaved a great sigh. His brother was still so sweet and naive, still little more than a baby really. Imagining their pathetic burglar to be a prince! "You know Gandalf would've mentioned it, Ori. Don't be silly."

"I'M NOT BEING SILLY!" Ori yelled much louder than he had intended, catching the attention of those near him. He flushed and lowered his tone. "Dori, this is important! If I'm right and I'm not saying I am, I'm saying that it's a distinct possibility, then... We. Are. All. In. Big. Trouble." He emphasised. "And frankly, I expect that Gandalf thought that we wouldn't be such clot headed fools not to notice!"

"Ori!" Dori objected.

Ori paused for breath, ignoring his brother's shrill exclamation. "He's wearing a fur coat." He admitted, gaze fixed firmly on the ground. He waited silently for his brother's (probably extremely loud) reaction but heard nothing. He flicked his eyes up cautiously, only to see Dori's thunderstruck face. He was blinking and a few times his mouth opened, only to close again like a fish. His brother was completely lost for words.

Sighing, Ori adjusted his position on his log. This might take a while.

Eventually, Dori managed to get his vocal cords functioning again. It wasn't, Ori thought dryly, a remarkable example of dwarven eloquence.

"Caragu rukhs."

A small moth was hovering around the camp fire. Around and around the flames it flew, yet cautious or wise enough to know not to fly recklessly into it's heart's desire. Bilbo stared at it dully. He was so bored. And deep down he knew that he was upset too, although he was not fool enough to declare that to any of the dwarves, (or dwarrow as he had been told icily by one of them – Gloin, wasn't it? – in response to one of his fumbling attempts to start a conversation.)

Whatever he tried, the dwarves remained suspicious and closed off and every time he tried to reach out towards them, he was mocked, argued with or quite simply ignored. While Bilbo had now gotten quite used to the pointed looks and muttering, to the extent that it wouldn't bother him so much, he was in a particularly glum mood tonight.

Fili and Kili had put frogs in his rucksack that morning. Again.

Whilst Bilbo didn't actually mind this too much, (he was quite fond of frogs to be honest), they had left his freshly cleaned clothes all grimy and horrible. Even more annoyingly, he had slipped and fallen whilst searching for a grass snake to put in their bags in retaliation, leaving muck on his lovely new coat. Which, if you thought about it was all Fili and Kili's fault.

He hadn't found a snake either. Tricky little nippers.

He had had another run in with Thorin too, after daring to comment on the 'validity of his directions', aka Thorin Fiddlesticking Oakenshield's complete inability to read a map.

Did the almighty Thorin not realise that they had been heading in a circle?! Yes, Bilbo understood that he was the leader of the company, but that didn't mean he actually had to lead. All the poor hobbit had gotten for his trouble was more mockery. "Silence Halfling. I expect that if I were to take your directions we would only end up back in the Shire for your handkerchiefs."

Bilbo huffed. Halfling! Of all the derogatory terms. Hmph. He had given up at that point and decided not to tell Thorin the truth, that if they kept going the way he was leading, then they would indeed end up back in the Shire. Good riddance.

What was truly upsetting Bilbo however, was a different matter. Ori, one of the only dwarves that had seemed to be even vaguely friendly or accepting of Bilbo's presence, was completely avoiding him and had been since last night. A cursory glance around the camp site showed him to be deep in discussion with Dori, with both of them pausing occasionally to send shifty glances towards him, as they had been doing all day.

Honestly.

Did they think that they were actually being subtle?

Fed up, Bilbo got to his feet and started walking over to figure out what was the matter. He liked to think that he had made at least one friend in the company and if Ori had decided something was going to change that, he wanted to know why.

Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Please review and let me know what you thought!

Caragu rukhs - Orc Dung