Primula Brandybuck, soon to be Baggins, felt like she had been scrubbing black blood out of the huge rug that sat before the study fire of Bag End for the past month since Bilbo had disappeared. The Orc bodies had long since been removed and burnt, yet she wanted all traces of the horrid things gone by the time Bilbo came home. And he was coming home and she didn't care what the other Brandybuck's were saying about him having been eaten or killed and dragged away, she knew that he was alive and would be returning to The Shire. She had always adored him, sure that she would marry him one day despite him being her cousin on her mother's side, well that was until Drogo had made himself known anyway.

"Might as well throw it out Prim." The voice made her groan and roll her eyes at the poor rug, she had hoped for a day of peace. "You'll never get rid of that awful stuff."

"Thank you for your advice Lobelia," she answered, continuing to scrub at the rug. "But I think Bilbo would prefer to have everything just the way it was before."

Lobelia snorted at that, and Primula watched from the corner of her eye as she walked around the rug towards Bilbo's desk.

"He's not coming back," she said, shaking her long curly hair behind her shoulder. "Don't be daft."

"I am not being daft." She sat back on her knees, and bunched her fists into her waist when she saw that Lobelia was going through the papers on the desk. "And leave his things alone you wrench."

Lobelia merely huffed and continued to rifle through the papers. "Just because you're marrying Drogo doesn't mean you're the mistress of Bag End."

"And you are just jealous that Otho won't give you the time of day," answered Primula, standing up and coming to Lobelia's side. "What are you looking at?"

She was holding an envelope with a bright red seal in one hand, though it bore no name nor address, and in her other had was held a piece of parchment with writing of fine penmanship upon it. On the edge of the parchment were watermarks, as though Bilbo had been crying when he was reading it and immediately her heart clenched in sympathy for him.

"It's a love letter … of sorts," answered Lobelia. "Though a cave Troll could probably write one with more emotion."

A love letter? For Bilbo? It seemed entirely unlikely but then Lobelia wasn't one for lying despite all her flaws.

"Whose it from?" she asked, trying to read it over the taller woman's shoulder.

"Somebody who called himself King Under the Mountain," Lobelia sniffed, handing the letter to her. "Whatever that means."

"I suppose it means he's the King under some mountain or other," she answered, and then began to read the letter.

My Dearest Bilbo [it read]

It has been two years hence since you left my side, and I have ached for you every day since our parting. I know not why you haven't replied to any of my letters and I can only hope that you are alive and well in your little Hobbit Hole, though I wish that you would let me know of your well-being. If I could have left this blasted mountain to come and return you home I would have done, however Balin informs me that this is impossible as my reign is tumultuous at best.

My Nephew's wish for me to inform you that they are betrothed, to each other no less, and they refuse to be wed until you are there for the wedding. So you see you must come back for the good of our people.

Please reply

Yours forever.

Thorin II

King Under the Mountain.

Lobelia was correct in saying that it wasn't the most romantic of letters that had ever been penned, though clearly it had been heartfelt and Primula couldn't fault the writer in that.

"Yes but which mountain?" demanded Lobelia. "The nearest Mountains are the Ered Luin and I doubt they have a King."

Nodding absently, Primula was placing the letter back on the desk when something underneath the heaping papers caught her eye. It was a picture frame, one without glass, and she quickly dug it out. In the frame was a piece of frayed and stained parchment, and on it was a picture of a mountain with a large red dragon drawn above. Surrounding the picture were runes, Khuzdul she guessed, and then in Westron was written …

"The lonely mountain," she said, tracing the writing with her finger. "I wonder if that's the mountain?"

"More than likely," answered Lobelia, she grabbed one of the maps Bilbo kept beside his desk. "Wonder where it is?"

They poured over the map, unable to find anything that looked like it could even resemble the lonely mountain to the west of the Misty Mountains. However something to the far North-East caught Primula's eye, and she leaned closer to get a look.

"Erebor," she read, nudging Lobelia with her elbow. "I wonder if that could be it."

"Probably," answered Lobelia with a nod. "That a Dwarvish Kingdom, and its well known that Bilbo went running off with Dwarves."

Well that settled it then, either Bilbo had run back to his King in this Erebor or he had been taken by Orcs, if it was the latter who better than a Dwarf King to find and rescue him. Almost as if Bilbo was the heroine in one of Ruby Bolger's stories.

"Well lets go then," she said, smiling at Lobelia's wide eyed stare.

"Go where?" she hissed, hands on hips. "You can't mean Erebor surely?"

"Of course I mean Erebor," answered Primula. "Someone needs to tell this King Under the Mountain that Bilbo is missing."

"Send a letter," said Lobelia. "You'll never survive the journey."

"We … since you're coming with me." Primula patted her friend on the shoulder. "And of course we'll survive."