Chapter 3
Bilbo rapped on the red front door of the Sackville-Baggins's home with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. He took a small step back and clasped his hands behind his back, rocking back and forth slightly on his heels. He could not ignore the trepidation he felt at facing down his sharp-tongued cousin, but with Thorin at his shoulder, his courage was bolstered (though a small part of him preferred another round with the spiders of Mirkwood).
The door swung open. Lobelia's seemingly permanent frown deepened as she caught sight of her cousin. "Bilbo Baggins."
"Hello, Lobelia."
Her tone was almost as sharp as the crease between her brows. "You have some nerve showing up at my door. First you go running off with a group of dwarves, disappear for over a year, and come back disturbing the peace just when we've started to get things back in order. I do not need nor do I want that kind of behavior on my doorstep."
For a moment, Bilbo thought she was going to slam the door in his face, but she simply planted her hands on her hips and glared at him.
"Well, I do apologize for disrupting your afternoon." He gave her a stiff smile. "And I won't say I'm exactly thrilled to be here, either. But you have something of mine, I'm afraid, and I'd like to have it back."
Lobelia tilted her chin up. "And what would that be, exactly?"
Bilbo suppressed a sigh. Clearly she wasn't planning on making this easy for him. "My silverware. As I'm sure you recall, I took my spoons back from you yesterday, but they were part of a set, and I know you have the rest."
"Why should I give to you something that I purchased with my own coin? By all rights, it was you who unjustly took my property yesterday."
Behind him, Thorin muttered a swear in Khuzdul. Bilbo felt a slight smile twitch on his lips and forced his face back into a neutral expression. "How much do you want for it?" he asked.
Lobelia blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"If money is an issue for you, then I will buy back my silverware. Name a price." Bilbo crossed his arms.
Her scowl reasserted itself. "You think you can throw a sack of coin at me and I'll give up everything I got yesterday?"
"That's usually how buying things works, yes."
Lobelia clenched her jaw, looking again like she wanted to slam her front door shut, and ground out, "Sixty for the set."
"Done."
Without another word, Lobelia turned on her heel and disappeared inside her house.
"I see what you meant earlier," Thorin said, causing Bilbo to turn. "About her being a...piece of work." From the crease in his brow, it was clear Thorin had a different phrase in mind.
"Sometimes I wonder if she just enjoys getting on people's nerves." Bilbo sighed.
Thorin turned his attention to the ground. "She had your table, too."
Bilbo followed his gaze and found twin scuff marks in the dirt, which were of a width apart suspiciously similar to that of the legs of his kitchen table. "Well, what do you know?"
Lobelia returned a moment later with a bag full of his missing utensils. Wordlessly, she thrust it at him as one would a sack of rotten fruit.
"Thank you." Bilbo accepted it, took out his coin purse, and paid her the proper amount. "One more thing," he said before she could close the door. "My kitchen table."
"What of it?"
He resisted the urge to rub his temples. His headache was returning with a vengeance. "May I have it back?"
Lobelia crossed her arms. "What would lead you to believe I have it?"
Bilbo gestured to the scuff marks in the dirt.
Her face flushed and she stepped forward. Lobelia was taller than him, if only by a few inches, but Bilbo did not back down. "I'll not have you turn my home into a marketplace, Bilbo Baggins."
At the intrusion of his physical space, Bilbo felt the same rush of adrenaline that appeared right before stabbing a spider or riding a barrel down a waterfall, and before he could stop himself, he said, "I am only asking for my table. I know you probably have a dozen other things from my home stashed away in there, and you're lucky I'm not in the mood to barge in there and take back what you stole. Give me a price for my kitchen table, I will pay it, and then we can stop wasting each other's time."
Lobelia stood there, her mouth moving soundlessly. Bilbo could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and wondered if he had crossed some sort of line. He'd never spoken to his cousin in such a manner before. Though that sort of thing didn't seem so ludicrous after he had faced down a group of bloodthirsty orcs or stubborn elves who would not have given a second thought to good manners.
"Two hundred for the table," Lobelia said after a moment, her voice slightly strained.
"And the chairs."
"I'm not helping you move it."
"I'm not asking you to," Bilbo said with a sarcastic smile, all pretense of politeness gone.
Moving stiffly, Lobelia disappeared into her house for a second time.
His shoulders fell as Bilbo let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. A sudden wave of exhaustion swept through his body. He turned back to Thorin, who was looking at him with wide eyes and a slightly parted mouth.
"What is it?" Bilbo asked, feeling his heartbeat speed up again. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Thorin visibly swallowed and lowered his gaze. "It's nothing. I've just never seen you speak so...forcefully."
His mouth tugged down into a frown. "Well, I was hardly going to let her walk all over me."
"No, you're quite right." Thorin moved closer, a small smile gracing his lips. "I wouldn't mind seeing that side of you more often."
"Oh. Um." Heat flared up his neck and onto his face. Bilbo cleared his throat, his mouth dry all of a sudden.
He was saved from having to further ponder Thorin's statement when Otho Sackville-Baggins, Lobelia's husband, came out and asked for help in moving the table outside.
Bilbo followed him into the house, hoping his face wasn't too red.
"Well...this is a problem."
Bilbo and Thorin stood on the path outside the Sackville-Baggins's house with Bilbo's kitchen table and chairs. When Lobelia had refused to help him move the furniture back to his house, Bilbo had been too worked up to consider the implications of that statement. Now that he was standing outside with far too much furniture for one hobbit to carry, he was beginning to regret his lack of forethought.
"I'll admit, I did not think this far ahead." He braced one hand on the edge of the table, still feeling a bit exhausted and dizzy as well. The day really was quite hot.
"Yes, that much is evident."
Bilbo looked up and scowled upon seeing Thorin's teasing smile. "Could you not help me carry this?"
Thorin spread his hands apologetically. "I would, believe me. But I'm not physically here."
"Right." Inconvenient as that was, Bilbo imagined it would give the other hobbits quite a shock if they saw what would appear to them to be floating furniture trailing after him.
His salvation came in the form of a familiar hobbit cresting the hill a little farther down the road.
"Oi, Mister Bilbo! You look like you could use some help." Hamfast grinned as he approached.
"Yes, that would be very much appreciated," Bilbo said, shoulders sagging with relief.
"Got all this back from old Lobelia, did you?" He nodded towards the drawn curtains of one of the windows. "I'd imagine she didn't let it go without a fight."
"I had to buy it back," Bilbo said with a slight grimace. "But at least I won't be eating any more meals standing up."
"Let's see…" Hamfast began stacking the chairs on top of the table, with the legs facing up. "I think we can carry all this back in one trip."
Bilbo caught on and began moving the chairs as well. "Yes, that should work."
"Who is this?" Thorin asked, moving up beside him.
"My gardner," Bilbo replied without thinking.
Hamfast looked up. "Yes, Mister Bilbo?"
He mentally kicked himself. "I…" Sorry, I wasn't talking to you, Hamfast, I was talking to the ghost of a dwarf king. "I appreciate your help."
Thorin laughed. "Sorry."
And Bilbo was so enamored by the sound of Thorin's laughter that he could not bring himself to feel annoyed.
Bag End was not too far away, but due to the weight of their load and the numerous breaks they took along the way, it was nearly half an hour later that Bilbo and Hamfast finally arrived at their destination.
The summer heat was uncomfortably intense, and it was with no small amount of relief that Bilbo set down his end of the table in front of Bag End and dragged his wrist across his forehead. A smattering of white spots danced in his vision.
"...turn it sideways to get it through the door, and then move the chairs in afterwards."
Bilbo shook his head to get rid of the ringing in his ears. "Sorry, what was that?"
"Oh, I was just sayin' how we should…" Hamfast paused in taking the chairs off the table and frowned. "Are you feelin' all right, Mister Bilbo?"
"I'm fine. I-It's just the heat." He forced a smile. "Let's get this table inside."
On the contrary, he was shaking and dizzy and moving a piece of heavy furniture was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. Bilbo straightened up, ignoring the protest of his aching muscles. They were almost done.
He imagined wrestling a troll would be less of an arduous task than carrying the table the short distance from his front door to his kitchen. It seemed as though his entire journey through Mirkwood had taken half the time he spent making the simple journey across his house.
Against all odds, Bilbo made it in the end and helped Hamfast move the table to its original position. He leaned one hand against the surface, trying his utmost to keep himself upright.
Hamfast went to go retrieve the chairs from outside, and Bilbo made to follow, but found his path blocked by a wall of armor and fur. Thorin lifted one hand towards his face, his brow furrowed.
"What are you…" The rest of his sentence dissolved in a sigh as Thorin placed his palm against Bilbo's forehead. His skin was blessedly cool against his heated brow, but despite his relief, he couldn't help the slight chill that passed through him at the thought. Thorin's skin wasn't supposed to be cold. Just thinking about it brought back the painful reminder that he was—
"You're burning up," Thorin said with a frown, breaking him from his thoughts. "You should take a rest."
"We're almost done. I'll be fine," Bilbo said, stepping around him and making for the front door. He hadn't made it two steps before a wave of dizziness made the whole room spin. "All right, maybe I'll just…" He sank down against the wall, letting out a slow breath.
Thorin was at his side in an instant. "You're sick. You need a healer."
He placed one of his hands on the back of Bilbo's neck, and he felt his eyes slide closed. He really was quite hot…
"Keep your eyes open." Thorin's tone was insistent, and Bilbo obeyed after a moment of hazy consideration.
"I'll be fine. I just need a moment. You needn't worry about me."
"Mister Bilbo?"
He clamped his mouth shut, wondering how much Hamfast had heard, though he couldn't bring himself to care very much as an achy heat prickled just beneath his skin.
"Oh, dear." Hamfast knelt down on the other side of him. "I'll go get a healer." He stood up and rushed from the room.
"Hang in there, Bilbo." Thorin moved his hand to his jaw, gently tilting his head up as Bilbo began to nod off again. "You'll be able to rest soon. Just keep your eyes open, all right?"
"Hmm." He nodded to punctuate his agreement (at what, exactly, he wasn't quite sure), but the movement only served to aggravate his headache.
The moments afterward were a blur. Hamfast returned with the healer, a lass named Hanna, who coaxed him into drinking some water. After that, the two hobbits managed to help him into his bedroom and left him to rest.
Bilbo had been grateful for something to cool him down, but he soon regretted that as shivers racked his body. Even with the covers pulled up to his chin, he could not seem to shake the chill that had wrapped itself around him.
He lay there for some time—it could have been hours or days, shivering and aching and trying to swallow against the dryness in his throat. Occasionally he heard Thorin's voice, though his muddled mind was unable to make out the words being spoken to him.
When Bilbo finally found sleep, he dreamed of winter and death.
It came in terrifying flashes of snow and blood and a withered land where nothing would grow. The images, fractured as they were, somehow terrified him just as much as the real memories he had of the battle.
When his dreams finally drifted into coherence, Bilbo found himself running. He wasn't being pursued—no, he was trying to reach something.
Please, Eru, let me find him in time.
The biting wind stung his exposed skin but he pushed himself to go faster. If he could stop it before it happened, then he could change everything. There was still time to save him.
Pain knifed into his temple as the handle of an orcish weapon struck his head. Bilbo wanted to cry out, wanted to fight it, wanted just the tiniest chance to reach him in time and stop what he knew would happen next.
But all he could do was fall, helpless, as darkness descended over his vision.
When Bilbo finally woke, his skin covered in sweat and his heart pounding madly, the room was dark, and he was alone.
1 rt = 1 get well card for Bilbo. Poor guy :( Next chapter is pretty fluffy, though, so hopefully that'll make up for it.
This is my first time writing Lobelia's character, so I just went with making her A Bitch, though hopefully not too one-dimensional. We will be seeing more of her later on in the story, so let me know what you guys thought of that beginning scene.
Thanks for reading this chapter, and I hope you enjoyed it. Welcome new followers and thanks to everyone who favorited! Huge thanks to Emrfangirl, Thilbo4Ever, Anno1701, and MissCallaLilly for the kind reviews! Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you thought of this chapter. It really makes my day. Until next time!