Orcs. There were Orcs in the Shire, something that hadn't happened since the Fell Winter. The stories had come from a group of Tooks who had been traveling along the eastern border of the Shire, they had only just been able to escape with their lives. Hobbiton was all but abandoned, nobody daring to leave their smials, and when they did they went in large groups clutching anything they could get their little hands on as a weapon. Bilbo spent most of his days sat in his study, one hand on Sting while the other one held whatever book he happened to be reading at the time, and trying to desperately not think about the last time he had been anticipating Orcs to storm the door down. He knew the other Hobbits were waiting for him to do something, for once 'mad Baggins' and his adventure may actually be useful for once.
Bilbo, however, was far too afraid to even leave Bag End lest he came into contact with these foul beasts that haunted his dreams. Instead he waited in his cosy smial for word that someone had finally been killed, or that a Hobbit hole had finally been ransacked.
And then one night, three weeks after the Tooks had raised the alarm, he heard something which made his blood run cold and the hair to stand up on the nape of his neck. A warg howl, one that was far closer than he could ever be comfortable with. Breathing hard he tightened his grip on Sting, knuckles turning white as he crept towards the window and peered outside.
The night was unusually dark, no moon high in the sky to illuminate the winding paths and little gardens of Hobbiton. There was the occasional round window lit by candles, but for the most part the Hobbits were probably cowering in the dark and hoping that they made it through til dawn, Bilbo hadn't had the heart to tell them that the danger did not disappear come morning.
"You're just spooking yourself Bilbo Baggins," he muttered, lowering Sting and turning away from the window.
At that moment there was a great crash from the back of the smial, in the direction of the bedrooms, and Bilbo knew that they had broken in through the East facing window. Immediately he felt numb, the prospect of being cut down in his own home was a very different feeling than marching into battle or even taken on giant spiders.
Oh Thorin, he thought even as he prepared to fight, I am so very very sorry.
The first Orc came ambling down the hallway, a smirk on its face as it contemplated fighting this soft little creature in its hole in the hill. Clearly it hadn't expected a small blue glowing blade to slice open its stomach, a look of surprise on its face as it fell to the floor in a puddle of black blood. Orcs two and three went in a similar manner, however Bilbo soon found himself surrounded by the vile creatures and he knew that there was no way out of this situation.
"Where is the ring?" demanded the largest of the Orcs, as it slowly circled him in his own sitting room.
So that's what this was all about, they were after his magic ring. A magic ring which was, as always, in the left hand pocket of his waistcoat, and he had to force himself not to reach for it. Nothing was going to save him this time, not even invisibility, plus he had learned on the battlefield of Erebor that Orcs could smell him whether he was wearing his ring or not.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, lifting up his chin and staring the Orc straight in the eye.
"Do not lie to me Halfling," it hissed. "I have no problems in removing parts of you until you tell me where to find the ring."
"No," answered Bilbo, attempting to be brave despite the waver in his voice.
Just as the Orc raised his sword there was a knock on the door and almost as one the Orcs turned to face the door, seeing the distraction as good a time as any to make his escape. Quickly sheathing his sword, he did a quick calculation of distance and then sprinted between to of the Orcs, vaulted onto his desk and then did a rolling jump through the window. Pain exploded through his as he crashed through the glass, shards of the blasted stuff piercing most of his body, and he let out a cry as he landed head first into a rhododendron bush. His sudden appearance must have shocked the two men standing at his door for they both just stared at him, hands halfway to the hilt of their swords. It was when he noticed that one of them was carrying a tall staff and wearing a pointy hat that he felt a rush of relief come over him.
"Gandalf," he said, clambering to his feet and pointing at the glowing sword in his hand. "Orcs."
The other man turned back to the door. "Is it locked?"
"Yes," answered Bilbo, suddenly there was the sound of the heavy metal locks being pulled back and the door swung open. "No."
It didn't take very long at all for Gandalf and the man with him to dispose of the remaining Orcs, and once they were done Gandalf gave him a quick hug. "Are you injured?"
"No not at all," he answered. "Just a bit sore and bruised but nothing that won't heal."
"Good." Gandalf pulled back and looked him in the eye. "Do you know what they were here for?"
"They said they were after a ring," he said. "Though I don't know what …"
"Do not lie to me Bilbo Baggins." Gandalf's voice had a dark and booming quality, very much like that night in his smial when the Dwarves had been arguing about Bilbo's ability to be a burglar. "I am trying to help you."
Bilbo fidgeted with the hem of his waistcoat, something in him reluctant to tell Gandalf his secret, though he did jump when another warg howl pierced the air.
"We need to leave this place," said the man, his sword still drawn and a tight look on his face,
"Bilbo?" Gandalf's voice brokered no argument.
With a deep sigh, Bilbo slowly pulled the ring from his pocket and held it out to his friend.
However the moment the Wizard reached out for the small band of gold, he quickly snatched his hand back and scrambled to his feet a look of shocked horror on his wizened face. "Put it back in your pocket. We must now ride for Rivendell."
With that he strode towards two horses that were tied up against his garden fence, the man coming forwards to place his hand on Bilbo's shoulder.
"Come Master Hobbit," he said, gently leading him in the same direction as Gandalf.
"But my home," said Bilbo, glancing back at where four dead Orcs were laying in the doorway.
"Is lost to us," answered the man. "Now come if your life means anything to you."