Bilbo didn't like mountains. They were cold, unfeeling, and the air was too thin. He longed for the meadows of the shire, grass beneath his feet, pipe full of Old Toby, and a book. Most of all, he missed warmth. Because if there existed any feeling less agreeable than climbing a mountain, it was climbing a mountain in the rain. Bilbo opened his mouth to voice his complaint, but thought better of it, because he didn't want to draw attention to himself. Besides, the company's eyes were all fixed on... on... well he wasn't quite sure, but they were all staring at something. It appeared as if the rocks on one of the peaks was shifting. Perhaps an avalanche? No, the rocks were moving upwards, they were standing. Bilbo could hear the company screaming above the roaring wind. 'Storm giants!' said a voice, as the cliff face above him began to crumble away. A rift formed between Fili and Kili, and Bilbo only caught a glimpse of Kili's horrified expression as the two swung away from each other. The company was on the legs of a massive creature, all stone and power and rage, caught in the throes of a battle they neither had, nor wanted a part in. Rain pelted Bilbo's face, and he clung to the craggy rock with his whole body. The giants were in full swing now, throwing boulders and blows, paying no heed to the puny creatures trapped in the storm. One of the groups had jumped to the relative safety of an inanimate ledge, one that Bilbo was now hurtling towards at an alarming speed. The impact caught him off guard, and he lost purchase on the rock and flew off into the open air.
Thorin couldn't find him. Every other member of the company had been thrown clear onto the ledge, but the burglar was nowhere to be seen. Images pushed their way through Thorin's mind, of a small body broken on the jagged rocks below. He saw what once was rosy cheeked and brimming with life laying cold in a ravine, or dying in his arms, all the strength of a dwarven king useless as Bilbo's eyes moved frantically across his face in a plea for help. Thorin had said once that he would not be responsible for the hobbit's fate. Even then he knew he'd been lying. The dwarf looked up, someone was shouting. Thorin could see Bofur reaching down, hand grasping at air but never quite reaching his target, and all thought was gone. Any trace of cognitive ability he'd once had drained from him, leaving raw instinct at the wheel as he lunged. Over the other dwarves and towards his burglar he flew, and off a cliff. Thorin held the precipice with one hand, hoisting Bilbo to safety with the other. Once the hobbit had both feet safely planted, Thorin let out the breath he'd been holding and felt himself relax into the arms of the company as they hoisted him back up the cliff.
Fili and Kili announced that they had found a cave in which to spend the night, and the wind battered and rain soaked dwarves filed in wearily. They were far too tired to ponder the implications of an uninhabited cave appearing this high in the misty mountains. Before the company had time to let the ache settle into their bones, sleep was upon them. Bilbo, however, could scarcely shut his eyes, despite the fact that he hadn't had a good nights sleep since... well, since Rivendell. Avoiding Thorin was proving to be a highly ineffective strategy. In fact, the more he stayed away, the more he could feel the dwarf kings heavy gaze following him. Bilbo knew that Thorin was confused, and for that he was deeply sorry, but he couldn't bear having to talk to the dwarf again. The hobbit knew what would happen if he allowed himself ever that simple pleasure. There was a part of him- something Tookish no doubt -that wanted. Wanted with an unabashed selfishness that frightened Bilbo to no end. He was afraid that he got too close, his Tookish blood would up and do something damnably stupid. He could let slip the events of the night he was fighting so hard to forget, or even worse, he might kiss Thorin. Oh, how Bilbo wished he had never agreed to go on this quest. He would give all the books in bag-end if he could just leave now. But then again, maybe he could. After all, everyone else was asleep, and he was quite sure that they could all forget him easily enough in time. Bilbo stood, the thought still forming in his mind. It was surreal, the idea that he could actually leave. The hobbit pulled his bag off the ground and began walking out, the beginning of a slow trudge back to the shire.
"And where do you think you're going Mister Baggins?" said a familiar voice. Bilbo jumped, eyes flitting here and there about the cave, searching. Bofur sat lazily at the entrance, staring pensively out at the night sky. Well, thought Bilbo, he couldn't very well avoid this.
"I'm going home," he murmured, lowering his eyes. Why did it have to be Bofur? The dwarf stood.
"You can't leave!" said Bofur. "You're one of us now." Bilbo scoffed, and took a few more steps towards his friend.
"No Bofur, I'm not." Bilbo said, heat welling up behind his eyes. He choked on the words. "I can't stay here, I have to leave... I can't bear it." He was crying in earnest now, ashamed of the emotions he'd held in for so long. Bofur shot him a questioning look, and Bilbo motioned for the dwarf to follow him. Across the cavern, dark eyes followed their departure, pain evident even in the suffocating darkness. After a while, the pair returned to the cave, muttering softly to each other. Thorin could not catch all the words, but he heard the last part clear enough.
"Now i'll have to tell him, won't I?" lamented Bilbo.
"I'm afraid so little burglar." Bofur replied, doing a decidedly poor job of sounding concerned. "So he really sang..." The dwarf's voice trailed off.
"Yes, he sang to me. It was beautiful, really, even if I didn't know what it meant." Across from Bilbo, Thorin seethed. He certainly hadn't been doing any singing, so who was the hobbit speaking of? Thorin almost hoped, for the safety of whatever personage held his hobbit's esteem, that he never discovered them.
"What's that?" asked Bofur. Bilbo looked up, surprised by the fear in the dwarf's voice. Bofur was looking at sting. Tiny fragments of light were escaping the scabbard, and as Bilbo drew the weapon, the cavern took on an eerie blue glow. Thorin sprang to his feet, rousing the company with harsh shouts. A crack at the far end of the cave began to grow, and as the company backed away from the crevace, the ground beneath their feet fell away, plunging them into a putrid tunnel inside the mountain. Down they tumbled, piling on top of each other in a cagelike trap on a precarious ledge. As the goblins descended, Bilbo got an all fours on the ground and fell back, unnoticed. Perhaps now he could find a way to save the company. And his husband.