Chapter 14 - In honour of the dead

Bilbo woke up the next morning in a better mood than he had been for days. He spent a few moments just laying snuggled in the warmth of his blankets and let his mind replay the memory of his reconciliation with Thorin for him. He still couldn't believe that he had been bold enough to hug the dwarf. And Thorin had hugged him back! Maybe there was hope for him after all.

He went through his routine with a smile on his face and didn't stop smiling all the way to the dining hall.

"Good morning," he greeted the assembled dwarves. They all smiled when they saw him.

"So it is," Balin nodded. "You appear to be all better." He had a strange, knowing look in his eyes when he said that. Bilbo sat down.

"Yes, I am. I had a couple of bad days, but I am fine now." He started piling food on his plate. "I am sorry for being so grumpy yesterday," he apologised to his friends.

"You have a right to have bad days as much as anyone else," Ori told him. The others nodded in assent.

Bilbo barely managed to eat his first scone before the door opened and Thorin walked in. His eyes immediately sought out Bilbo and the hobbit smiled in greeting, feeling a thrill of giddiness run through his stomach when Thorin smiled back.

The dwarves at the table all shot a look between the two of them and a few of them grinned, but they were all wise enough to stay silent, going back to their food. Bilbo couldn't help but wonder at their newly found ability for discretion, but decided not to examine it too closely. He himself thought that his crush must now be painfully obvious to anyone who cared to look and was grateful that nobody made fun of him for it.

As he ate, his eyes kept straying in Thorin's direction, studying the dwarf's handsome features over his cup of tea. More than once their eyes met across the table and a few times he looked up to find Thorin already looking at him. He had no idea what the new current of awareness between them meant, but the feeling was incredibly heady and he enjoyed every minute of it.

Bilbo spent most of the day in his quarters, working on the tapestry. The dwarves took his improvement in mood as a signal that the door to his quarters was open once more and several of them used the opportunity to stop by and chat with him while he worked. The memorial ceremony was scheduled to take place at sunset on the field next to Dale, so he had plenty of time to kill before his presence was required in any way.

Bofur came to fetch him at teatime and they walked to the entrance hall, where the rest of the Company already stood assembled. The only ones missing besides Bilbo were Glóin and his family, who joined the group a few minutes later and they all set out to the memorial field. When they left the gate, Bilbo noticed that a peculiar construction had grown on the lawn by the river. It looked like a lumpy tent – three different pieces of cloth stitches together haphazardly covering a tall narrow structure.

"That's the memorial statue," Balin explained when he asked about it. "It was a joint project between Erebor, Dale and Mirkwood. There are supposed to be three statues, one made by a sculptor from each race. Nobody has seen the statues yet beside the sculptors themselves, so it will be a surprise."

"Oh," Bilbo said. "The elves are coming, too?"

"They have been staying in Dale for the past two weeks," Fíli said. "They are scheduled to sing some ballads at the ceremony. Everyone has promised to contribute in some way."

"How come Erebor doesn't organize the memorial?" Bilbo asked.

"The memorial is Bard's responsibility," Balin told him. "Erebor has already hosted the celebrations of the dragon's death."

As the crowd on the field came into view, Bilbo couldn't help but feel a little out of place in his autumn-coloured clothes, since both the dwarves and the men of Dale had dressed in dark shades to honour to deaths of the fallen. The elves were waiting for them by the monument, dressed in opalescent white.

Bilbo hadn't paid much attention to the preparations for the ceremony, lost as he had been in his gloominess, but now he belatedly wondered whether he should have asked about the etiquette of such an event. Hobbits didn't have any special clothes for funerals and sombre events, but it seemed that all the other races did. In his green cloak and dark maroon vest Bilbo now stuck out like a sore thumb among the sombrely dressed attendants.

Since the memorial was scheduled to start with the uncovering of the statue, the crowd surrounded the monument, whispers travelling like wind as they waited for the artists to present their work. Each of the sculptors came to stand by his part of the sculptural group and when the signal came, they all pulled at the canopy covering the statues. There were gasps and murmurs in the crowd as the monument came into view, but Bilbo was too busy examining it to pay much attention to the reactions of others.

There were three statues standing on the wide stone platform. A man, a dwarf and an elf gazed in three directions with their weapons drawn, standing back to back. Bilbo couldn't recall any part of the battle in which Thorin, Bard and Thranduil had ever come into contact, but he had to admit that the artistic work was very impressive.

Each of the statues was done in a different style, but rather than look jarring, the final effect gave each of the figures a sense of personality. Bard had been depicted drawing a bow and Thorin with a large axe in his hand, but rather than the elegant elvish scimitar he had been wielding in reality, the statue of Thranduil was holding Orcrist. Bilbo had to cover his mouth to hide his amused smile when he saw it, because it would be a highly inappropriate reaction for such a sombre event.

A quick look at Thorin told him that the dwarf had noticed the detail as well and wasn't very happy about it. The sword had been returned to its proper master right after the battle, but its loss in Thranduil's caves was still a sore point for Thorin. Bilbo wondered how long it would take before a random act of vandalism caused the Elvenking's statue to "accidentally" lose a hand and had to pretend to cough to cover his chuckle.

He quickly schooled his features back into careful neutrality, because Bard had climbed up on the monument's pedestal to address the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began. "Dwarves, Men, Elves. Hobbits," he added as an afterthought when he spied Bilbo in the crowd. "We have gathered here today to honour the memory of the brave men and women who had fought along us in the battle on this field five years ago. Later tonight we will go and celebrate the victory that we won that day, but for now let us remember the ones who fought and died at our side. I would like to ask for a moment of silence as a show of respect for the dead."

They all bowed their heads and stood in silence, the only sounds around them being the murmur of the river and the occasional cry of a bird.

"Thank you," Bard said after a moment. "While we may grieve for the ones who had died here, we should not forget about the bravery of those who helped us win that day."

He called forth several of the warriors and talked about their deeds before his eyes found Bilbo in the crowd. Bilbo took an abrupt step back, feeling an awful sense of foreboding. Bard gave him a smile that held far too much amusement for Bilbo's taste.

"I would also like to call forward Bilbo Baggins." Bilbo gave him a glare that Bard pretended not to notice. Fíli gave him a light nudge in the back and Bilbo stepped forward, uncomfortably aware of all the eyes on him. "It was through his actions that bloodshed between our allies was prevented. He managed to stop two armies bent on destroying each other and unite them against a common enemy. Without him there would be very few of us standing here today."

The people in the crowd started whispering and gazing at Bilbo with renewed interest. Bilbo wished that he hadn't raised that toast to Bard back at the celebration. Bard continued.

"It was also through his generosity that the city of Dale has been rebuilt. He gave up his entire claim to his share of the dragon's gold to me, leaving nothing for himself." Bard's smile turned genuine. "I am honoured to call him my friend."

Confound the man and his honesty, Bilbo thought in exasperation as the applause erupted around him. He would have liked to live his live in Erebor in relative anonymity, but it seemed that Bard was determined push him into the spotlight. He sighed when he felt someone nudge him in the back again and climbed a few steps up to bow to the crowd, hoping that Bard would move onto someone else soon.

He felt embarrassed by all the attention, but still couldn't help smiling when he saw that the ones cheering for him were not just his friends from the Company, but people from all the races. He was especially surprised by the dwarves, because up until now, he had lived under the impression that they didn't think much of him. Yet here they were, cheering and stomping, the smiles on their faces completely genuine.

The applause finally stopped and Bilbo could go back to hide between Fíli and Bofur. He once again wished that he had worn some less conspicuous clothes, since this way it was incredibly easy to find him in the crowd. Bard's speech continued for a while, still calling forth people who had done something heroic in the battle, but Bilbo paid it little attention. Several people came to talk to him and thank him for his gift to Dale and he found himself growing more and more flustered with every new show of gratitude.

Finally the speeches were over and the crowd started dispersing. Some went back to Erebor, some to Dale, but most of the attendants stayed on the field to listen to the elven ballads. Bilbo found that he needed to get away from the crowd for a bit and decided to climb a few of the stairs to Erebor, so that he could watch the crowds below without anyone bothering him He planned to rejoin his friends later to go listen to the elvish songs, but for now he wished to have a few moments to himself.

"You!" a coarse voice suddenly called to his right, bringing him out of his reverie. Bilbo turned to see a tall unkempt-looking man with long dark hair walking up the stairs towards him. "You! Midget! It's all your fault."

The man's cries started attracting the attention of the other attendants, but everyone was too far away to intervene.

"Do I know you?" Bilbo asked. The man snorted.

"I doubt that." He swayed on his feet. "I am Horn, son of Harold and you're the reason why my family is dead." The man ignored Bilbo's surprise and continued his rant. "If it weren't for you and your merry band of thieves waking up the dragon, none of this would have happened. But you had to go and wake the damned worm and now the Lake-town lays in ruin and my wife and son are dead. You are the reason for its ruin and now I'm going to make you pay for that."

He drew his sword and started advancing at Bilbo, eliciting gasps from the bystanders. Bilbo heard the sound of running feet behind him, but didn't turn, his attention focused on the man. He hadn't brought Sting with him to the memorial. As he watched the sun gleam on the blade of the man's sword, he wondered if he should have.

"Will my death help you feel better?" Bilbo asked calmly when the man was less than eight feet away, looking him straight in the eyes.

The man paused mid-step, hesitating. From the corner of his eye Bilbo saw several of the elves draw their bows, aiming them at Horn's back. Bilbo raised a hand towards them with his palm outstretched, shaking his head subtly. They frowned but listened to him, pausing in their movement to let him deal with the attacker on his own.

"Nothing will ever make me feel better," the man said, his sword hand wavering a little.

"Then what will you accomplish by killing me?" Bilbo asked him. "I am sorry that your family is dead, but their deaths were not my fault - the dragon killed them. Their deaths have already been avenged. Killing me won't bring them back."

"My family is gone," Horn said with despair in his voice. "And now you're trying to take my revenge away from me as well. What else do I have left?"

Bilbo looked at the man's hunched form and his heart ached with pity at the man's pain.

"Put away your sword," Bilbo said gently. "There is no need for violence."

Horn's hand went limp, dropping the sword on the ground.

Bilbo's voice grew stronger without him even realizing it.

"Today is a day for remembrance. We have all gathered here to honour our fallen friends and comrades. Look around you," he told Horn. "Everyone who came here today has lost something to the dragon – a family member, a friend, or their home. You are not alone in your grief."

Horn's legs gave out and he dropped to his knees before Bilbo, bowing his head.

"What am I supposed to do, then?" he said, his voice breaking with a sob. Bilbo took a few careful steps forward and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Grieve," he told him simply. "Honour the memory of your family. Remember the good times you had with them and let go of your revenge. Violence won't help anything."

It was only then that he noticed that there was a circle of dwarves around them, their drawn weapons pointed at the kneeling man. He spied the elves standing behind the dwarves with their bows still drawn. Thorin stood next to him, the tip of his sword pointed at the man's throat. Bilbo took a step back and put a gentle hand on Thorin's wrist.

"No," he said to Thorin. "Let him be."

Thorin gave him a long searching look before he conceded, lowering his weapon. Bilbo looked around at the assembled warriors.

"That goes for the rest of you as well," he called in a strong voice. "Put away your weapons, all of you."

"But he tried to kill you," Kíli protested, holding his position.

"That man is grieving. He doesn't deserve to be killed for that."

"But-" Kíli said.

"Enough blood has been spilled on the dragon's account," Bilbo said firmly. "Let's not add any more to it. Put away your weapons."

They listened to him this time, sheathing their weapons with great reluctance. Bilbo reached into his vest pocket, drawing out a large emerald.

"Here," he said, putting the stone into the man's hand, "this is the last piece from my share of the dragon's treasure. I have carried it around in my pocket for the last five years as a good luck charm, but I think it will be of more use to you than to me. Take it and build a new life for yourself or use it to honour the memory of your wife and son. It's the least I can do for you."

Horn gazed at the gem in his hand in disbelief.

"I threatened to kill you and you do this." He shook his head. "I didn't believe the folks when they said that you had given all of your treasure away to Bard, but I believe it now." He looked up at Bilbo. "Thank you for this."

Bilbo gave him a gracious nod.

"You're welcome."

"I am sorry for threatening you," the man said. "I didn't come here today to attack you, but the memorial brought back bad memories for me." He swayed a little and put a hand to his forehead. "I think I had too much to drink."

Horn stood up slowly, but left the sword on the ground, as he had probably noticed the ring of hostile warriors around him and didn't want to risk provoking them more than he already had.

"I used to be a blacksmith, back before the dragon came," he said.

"Then take up your hammer and be a blacksmith once more," Bilbo told him. "There is much rebuilding to do still and your skill will be useful."

"I think I will do that. I am sorry for threatening you."

"Apology accepted," Bilbo said with a small smile.

Horn gave him a low bow and started walking away, the crowd parting around his retreating figure.

"Should my men detain him?" Bard emerged from the crowd, giving Bilbo a questioning look. Bilbo shook his head.

"I don't think that will be necessary."

"Thank you for sparing his life," Bard said quietly. "He's a good man at heart, but the death of his wife has been hard on him." He cocked his head to the side. "Why did you spare him?"

"Gandalf once told me that true courage lies not in knowing when to take a life, but when to spare it," Bilbo told him. "I took his lesson to heart."

"So you did," Bard said, looking thoughtful.

He gave Bilbo a nod and walked away, most of the crowd around them dispersing as well now that the danger had passed. The dwarves from the Company formed a tight circle around Bilbo, all looking very displeased.

"Why did you stop us?" Kíli burst out. "He could have killed you."

"But he didn't," Bilbo said calmly, making them all frown even more.

"You couldn't have known that!" Kíli looked like he was holding himself back from taking Bilbo by the arms and shaking some sense into him. Bilbo shrugged.

"If he raised that sword, he would have been dead before his strike fell." He threw a pointed look at the elves who were still watching the man's retreating figure with mistrustful eyes. He gave the dwarves a smile and started untying his necktie.

"Besides, I am afraid that I wasn't entirely truthful when I spoke to him. Even without the emerald, I am still in possession of one final piece of the dragon's treasure." He pulled away the collar of his jacket to show them the mithril beneath. "How do you think I survived the warg attack at Weathertop? It certainly wasn't skill that saved me back then. Even if the man did attack, I would have been fine."

"That's not terribly reassuring," Bofur muttered.

"That is still no reason for you to risk your life like that," Thorin said, frowning. Bilbo didn't allow himself to be cowed by his disapproval.

"That was my risk to take. I am responsible for myself. You do not have to protect me all the time."

"But we want to," Kíli said, looking deeply unhappy.

"I know," Bilbo told him gently, "but I would still prefer to take care of myself, if possible. You weren't responsible for my life when I travelled with you and you're not responsible for me now."

Kíli's frown deepened, but he didn't try to protest again. Bilbo raised an eyebrow and turned to the rest to find out what their objections were.

"Please don't do anything like this again," Fíli said. The others nodded in agreement. "I think my heart stopped for a moment when I saw the man approach you."

Bilbo gave them a grateful smile.

"I'm happy to hear that you all care about me so much and I understand that you would like to protect me, but I am not made of glass. I don't need to be locked away from the world just because someone might look at me the wrong way. The only person responsible for my fate is me. My moving to Erebor didn't change that."

They grumbled for a moment longer but eventually let him be and went back to the memorial. Only Thorin and Dwalin remained behind, the latter keeping a respectful distance to let them talk in private.

"I am responsible for you," Thorin said, once the others had left. "Since you live here, your well being falls under my purview as the king-"

"Oh, don't you dare and try to play the king card with me, Thorin Oakenshield," Bilbo interrupted him before he could start a grand speech about responsibility and duty. "That one has never worked on me."

Thorin gave him a long searching look before he sighed, giving in.

"No, it has not. You have never been impressed by titles. I used to find it disrespectful, but now it serves as a welcome breath in fresh air among all the people who can't even approach me without bowing twice."

Bilbo didn't know what to say to that, so he stayed silent.

"You have a terrible tendency to become fearless at the least convenient moments," Thorin said after a moment, shaking his head in bemusement.

"You had no problem sending me to the dragon's lair three times," Bilbo couldn't help but point out. "A single assassin is nothing compared to that."

Thorin's face twisted at the reminder.

"That does not make him any less dangerous. What if something happened to you?"

Bilbo shrugged.

"Then you would simply have to deal with it." He sighed when he saw Thorin's unhappy expression. "We live in dangerous times, Thorin. You of all people should know that. There will always be danger, but that's no reason to stay locked inside, trembling in fear when there's a whole world out there to discover." He looked Thorin in the eyes. "You cannot protect me from everything."

Thorin sighed.

"I can still try."

They both turned to watch the crowd below, which reminded Bilbo of a similar sight.

"Is this what the battle looked like from here?" he asked Thorin. The dwarf nodded.

"We sat behind the wall and watched the armies clash below. It seemed a madness to try and join them – there were so many of the orcs and so little hope for survival – and yet we still went to battle, because it would have been the height of cowardice to sit in safety while our kin died to protect our mountain."

He gave Bilbo a look.

"I think I understand now why you faced the attacker. It was brave of you to do it, but that doesn't change the fact that it was a folly."

"I never claimed it was a wise move," Bilbo replied, "just that it was something I had to do by myself. You wouldn't have been able to stand idly, either."

"No," Thorin said quietly. "I wouldn't." They stood in silence for a moment before he spoke again. "I had no idea that you still wear that mithril shirt."

Bilbo smiled.

"It has saved my life several times over the years. I think I wouldn't have survived the battle without it." He turned to face the dwarf. "I don't think I ever thanked you for it properly, so I am telling you now: Thank you for the gift. Of all the things I could have taken from the dragon's hoard, this has proved to be the most useful and most precious. You couldn't have chosen a better gift."

Thorin smiled back.

"I am gratified to hear it. I had your protection on my mind when I chose it for you, so it is good to hear that it has served you well."

"It has," Bilbo nodded. "I fell into the habit of wearing it when I started wandering the lands around Shire. There are plenty of dangerous beasts in those places and I have never been much of a fighter, as you well know. I do not wear it as much in Erebor, because I feel safe here, but I still put it on whenever I plan to leave the gates. One can never be too cautious."

"No indeed," Thorin said. "Today's episode only proves that." He gave Bilbo an intent look. "It will ease my heart if I know that you wear the mail."

"I wear it most of the time anyway, hidden under my clothes," Bilbo said. "I only showed you the shirt today to make you all stop worrying about me so much."

"I am afraid that is an impossible request," Thorin shook his head with a small smile. "None of us will ever stop worrying about your safety." He ran his gaze across the field below, lingering on the memorial statue.

"When you spoke to the man before, you said that everyone here has lost something." He said softly. "What did you lose?"

"My peace of mind," Bilbo confessed. "Warriors are not the only ones who dream of blood and battlefields. It took me almost a year before I was able to sleep peacefully after I left here. I suppose you lot had it better, since you are used to stuff like this."

Thorin shook his head.

"One never gets used to death. I have seen it in a hundred different forms and yet it takes me aback every time. None of us could sleep well after the battle," he admitted. "It is no fault of your character to be repelled by violence."

"At least now we have peace," Bilbo said, watching the different races mingle on the field below.

"Most of the orcs from the Grey Mountains are dead and our alliances hold strong," Thorin said. "Let us hope this lasts for many years yet."

"I think the memorial was a good idea," Bilbo said. "I was not sure about it at first, but now I see that it really works to bring everyone closer." He shot Thorin a look. "Come, let's rejoin the crowd. I would like to hear what the elves have prepared."

Thorin pretended to scowl at the mention of the elves, but readily fell in step with Bilbo when the hobbit started his descent back towards the field. Bilbo heard the distant sound of singing and smiled, the beautiful elvish music driving out the last of the gloom that had resided in his heart for the past few days.

He stopped near the group of musicians that sat below the pedestal and closed his eyes, letting the music fill his whole being.

"What are they singing about?" Thorin asked him quietly when the song ended.

"Death, loss and grief, but it's so beautiful that the words don't really matter," Bilbo whispered back. "I always thought that elves had the most beautiful songs about sadness. We don't have any songs about grief in the Shire, so I always found the custom interesting."

"What do you do instead?" Thorin asked, looking genuinely curious.

"We celebrate life," Bilbo said, watching the nimble fingers of the players dance over their instruments. "We remember the person that used to be with a feast and drink to celebrate them. After the wake is over, everyone simply returns to their lives. There is no point in dwelling in the past."

Thorin was silent for a while, lost in thought.

"Does it work?"

Bilbo shrugged.

"Sometimes. Our natures usually allow us to bounce back from trauma pretty quickly, but there are some things for which there is no remedy." He looked back at the musicians. "I think the elves know that better than anyone else. It must be terrible to lose someone whom you have known for hundreds of years."

Thorin seemed to see the elves in new light.

"A lot of elves died in the battle," he said quietly. "I never bothered to think about them."

Bilbo reached over and gave his upper arm a gentle squeeze.

"You are thinking of them now. You dwarves aren't the only ones capable of grief, you know. They just show it in different ways."

"So it would seem." Thorin's voice trailed off as he got lost in thoughts. Bilbo let him. The king seemed to be experiencing an epiphany of a sort and Bilbo did not wish to disturb him.

He used Thorin's moment of silence to look around them instead and spied Dís standing a few feet behind Thorin, watching them both with curious eyes. He raised an eyebrow at her, but she just shook her head and stayed where she was, unwilling to join their private discussion. A quick glance revealed several more members of the Company standing in the crowd nearby, but they all seemed lost in thought.

A new song started and a woman's voice rose with the music, singing a prayer for the dead in Quenya. Bilbo didn't understand all the words, but he could still make out enough to get the gist of it. The crowd had fallen silent to listen to the song, so he closed his eyes and joined them in their quiet reflection.

The sun set slowly, marking the passing of the day. The elves ended their performance when the last ray of light disappeared beyond the western horizon and bowed to the crowd. Bilbo joined in the applause, still feeling moved by the beauty of the music. The dwarves were all strangely silent when they set out on the journey back to Erebor. Bilbo thought that the elvish music had probably given them all some food for thought.

The mood didn't stay sombre for very long. Once they came into the Great Hall and the ale got flowing, everyone cheered up and soon there were songs and plenty of laughter. The entertainment soon became very informal, with people mingling and sitting down wherever they pleased. Bilbo spent the dinner sitting with his friends, chatting about the memorial.

He was just returning back to the table with a mug of ale in hand when a group of younger dwarves headed by Gimli approached him.

"Is it true that you killed a warg all by yourself?" Gimli asked. "I thought your cousins were having me on when they told me about it, but Fíli and Kíli both claim that you really did it."

Bilbo nodded.

"Yes, I killed a warg near Weathertop two years ago. I have the teeth to prove it."

The youngsters looked at each other in growing excitement.

"And what about the stuff with the spiders?" asked another lad. Bilbo realized with a surprise that it was Dáin's son, Thorin. "Did you really fight an army of spiders all by yourself?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it an army..." Bilbo began, but Kíli popped behind his shoulder.

"There were enough of them to swarm us from all sides, so I think it is only fair to call them an army."

"Are you telling them about the spiders?" Fíli appeared next to his brother. "I'd like to hear it, too. We haven't heard this one yet."

Before Bilbo knew it, there was a cluster of dwarves sitting on the floor around his chair, looking at him expectantly. It seemed hobbit children weren't the only ones fond of tales. He gave them a look of resignation.

"Where should I start?"

"At the beginning, of course," Bofur spoke up behind him. Bilbo gave up on trying to find out, how many people wanted to listen to his tale.

"Very well," he said. "We were wandering through Mirkwood, starving..." He told them all about the elvish fires and wandering through the night, lost in the forest. Their eyes grew when he described how he had woken up in the middle of the forest to find a huge spider trying to wrap him in a spiderweb. He continued with a description of his search for his missing companions. "I finally found them all in the spider's den, hanging from the tree in those horrible cocoons."

"What did you do?" asked one of the dwarflings eagerly.

"He saw five dozen spiders as big as a horse and thought that the best way to act would be to provoke them into murderous rage," Fíli told them. "I was awake enough to hear you taunt them." He gave Bilbo a displeased look.

"I worked, didn't it?" Bilbo replied. "They went after me and left you alone for long enough that I could sneak back and free you all from the webs."

"They came back soon enough," Kíli grimaced. "The spider poison made us all so weak that we could barely walk, much less fight. I remember thinking how stupid it was, to survive such a long journey only to become spider food in the end."

"But you didn't." Bilbo smiled at him.

"No, we didn't, but only because you saw it fit to place yourself between us and an army of spiders. How many did you kill in the end? I lost count after five, because I was too busy trying to remember how to walk."

"I don't know," Bilbo shook his head. "Ten, maybe twenty? I was extremely angry and the entire battle was a bit of a blur. The rest of the spiders fled eventually after I killed enough of them, so I didn't really bother counting."

Bilbo realized that the dwarves were all looking at him with huge eyes. He suddenly felt very self-conscious.

"I am not normally so violent," he hastened to reassure them. "I don't know what came over me in that forest."

"Remind me not to make you mad," Fíli muttered. The others all nodded, looking at him with newfound respect.

"Tell us about the dragon!" Dáin's son said.

Bilbo raised his head to find plenty of eyes watching him tell his tale, not just the youngsters. Reaching for his tankard, he decided that one more story couldn't hurt.

To be continued...

AN: I had the assassin scene in my head for the longest time, but it was terribly hard to write it convincingly. I have read other fics where Bilbo kills someone who is trying to assassinate someone from the royal family and while I think that the strong protective streak is consistent with his character, I thought it would be much more poignant to have him show mercy, instead of just killing the man off.

One of the songs sung at the memorial is this: www. Youtube watch?v=EAANKFPchtA (remove blanks) - Leliana's song from Dragon Age: Origins. I discovered the song when I was playing the game this spring and it still remains one of the most beautiful pieces of music I know. I am not a big fan of making soundtracks for fics, but this song fits the mood perfectly.

Also, I had planned to write the memorial as a sombre affair, but ended up giggling over Thranduil's statue instead. I'm sorry :)

The next chapter will be posted on October 8.