AN: So I'm sure a few of you are feeling a little murderous with me for not posting for two weeks now. And I'm terribly...terribly sorry. In my defense, I've never really done a battle scene. And it had been a spectacular battle with Writers Block these last few weeks. It was like pulling teeth, writing this chapter. Anyways, it's here and I hope it doesn't disappoint. I hope it makes up for my terrible updating. Enjoy!
OOOOO
The sky was dark with clouds and dust, and it burned red from the setting sun behind it. A sky of blood. A sky that reflected the carnage on the earth below. The fields before Erebor were a mess of bodies, living and dead, and of all races. There were rivers of blood and weapons stuck, half buried, out of the ground like plant sprouts. Everything was dirty and bloody and it was louder than the forges when they were still working. It was hell. Living, writhing, hell and the screams of the dying were only matched by the screams of those who had already died. Those who had died screaming.
Thorin could not remember a worse perdition. Even the Battle of Azanulbizar paled in the face of this field of madness and death. Everywhere he looked there was a dead body and pair of enemies fighting right on top of it. The mud, tinted red with crimson blood, was feet thick as more and more of the viscous fluid was spilled. Some of Thorin's own blood was littered around him. He had cuts on almost ever limb of his body. The King Under the Mountain thought it could not get worse. Blood and sweat covered his body, and his muscles screamed in agony, begging for pardon. His sweat stung the injuries he already had, and he expected a few more before the end of it. He felt weak and ready to give up. And then he saw him.
The white orc. Azog saw Thorin at the same moment the Dwarf caught sight of the orc, and it was almost as though the sea of bodies between them parted. It left a seemingly perfect trail for the orc to approach his intended victim. The grotesque thing was covered in blood and the metallic smell of it was like a warning to those who got in his path, for none seemed willing to. No, this was a battle between the two of them that had started all those years ago. It was up to Thorin to end it. He clenched his fist tight around Orcrist and stood his ground, glaring the foul creature down as it came closer and closer. Azog sneered, a monstrous sight, and taunted Thorin as he came near.
"Where is your Halfling, Oakenshield?" Thorin only bared his teeth as a reply. "He has such sweet blood. It's such a pity I only got a little of it. But I will change that." The orc leered, raising his mace. Thorin practically roared and dodged the lethal blow at the last moment. Azog was not deterred, and eagerly swung the giant mace once more. Thorin nearly avoided this one, but it still caught on his shoulder and he was knocked to the ground. He was momentarily stunned and only raised his sword a moment before Azog's weapon would have been embedded in his face. He was more exhausted than he thought if he was already on the ground, reduced to defending himself rather than attacking.
An arrow lodged itself in Azog's back and the giant Gundabad orc howled in outrage, momentarily distracted from the Dwarf King. The distraction gave Thorin just enough time to rise and steel himself for the next terrifyingly powerful blow. Off in the distance, Thorin could see Kili, who had loosed the arrow. He also saw the red haired Elf and that damned son of Thranduil's. The Elf king himself was further to the south of the battlefield. He sent a short prayer to Mahal to keep them all safe before he roared and swung his blade. It did not reach it's mark, but it did make Azog take a step back.
"I imagine he is inside your mountain. Safe and sound. For now." Azog grunted as he delivered a seemingly effortless onslaught to Thorin. But the Dwarf held his own surprisingly well, all things considered. Thorin wondered if Azog knew just how angry he was making him by speaking of Bilbo. He wondered how the orc could possibly know of Thorin's feelings towards the Hobbit. "They call me the defiler for a reason Oakenshield. I've never tried Halfling before." Azog's grin was particularly disgusting and with another roar, Thorin finally got a hit in.
The hit was particularly pathetic, compared to Azog's continuous rampage, but it did leave a nice big gash across his stomach. And it set the stage for the next wound Azog would receive. When the orc opened his filthy mouth to yell in anger, a sleek elvish arrow found it's way into his mouth and through his throat. Azog choked, and screamed in pain, but growled and yanked the arrow out, apparently unaffected though there was a nice hole through his esophagus. Thorin glanced at Legolas for only a moment, giving him a little nod of thanks.
Azog could no longer goad and taunt Thorin, but his attack only got fiercer from that moment. Even the five arrows Kili landed in various places on the orc could not deter his savagery. He kept swinging his mace, and jabbing with his metal hand. He fought with no rules, no patterns. He was the most efficient enemy Thorin had ever faced, and the Dwarf hated him with a passion. He hated this monster and he wanted nothing more than to see him dead.
Unfortunately, Azog was a truly terrifying opponent. And despite the impressive amount of times Thorin escaped his mace, his luck was bound to run out. Thorin once again fell to the ground, this time from a blow to his chest, one that he felt break ribs and split skin. Sounds faded for a moment and the Dwarf King of Erebor stared in horror as Azog raised his mace for a killing strike. It was even less pleasant in slow motion.
The only thing he could think of, in that moment, was that he never got to apologize to Bilbo. He had to pretend to be mad at the Halfling, to send him away. And he didn't get to tell Bilbo how genuinely terrible he felt about every moment of pain he'd inflicted on the Hobbit. Emotionally and physically. He'd never get to apologize. He'd never get to hold Bilbo and make things right. But, he supposed, even if he lived, there was only a small chance of getting that anyways.
He wasn't ready to die. But Azog was ready to kill him. And it didn't appear as though anything was going to stop-
A flash of silver and a pulse of blood shattered the fog that had descended on Thorin's mind. Azog's pale arm and that blood covered mace fell to the ground, showers of black blood oozing over them from Azog's newest stump of an arm. And Dain Ironfoot appeared from behind the beast to shove his sword through the monster's neck. Dain gave a grunt as he yanked the sword to the right, and Azog fell to the side, head only remaining attached to his body by a few ropes of muscle and sinew.
Thorin had to take a few long moments of staring at Azog's newly made corpse before it really sunk in that the creature was dead. And Thorin was not. Then he looked up at Dain who, despite all the sweat and blood and exhaustion he'd gathered during the battle, looked very regal in that moment. The elder Dwarf sighed and reached down to help Thorin up.
"Come on, there is still much to be done cousin." Dain rumbled, and Thorin nodded, gripping Dain's hand and forcing his weary body to stand.
"Is there no end to this madness?" Thorin murmured as he cast his eyes around at the living hell that was surrounding them. Fili and Kili were now fighting back to back with the two insufferable Elves, but they were still alive and that was what mattered. Thorin worried they may not be so healthy if the battle continued as it was.
"Bolg has been slain, and now Azog as well. The orcs are leaderless." Dain pointed out.
"It doesn't seem to be making a difference to them." Thorin sighed, his shoulders drooping. Dain noticed immediately and slapped a big hand on his cousin's back.
"We will prevail Thorin." The doubt in Thorin's mind was not eased. But he steeled his resolve, keeping in mind the fact that Bilbo was just a battlefield away, hiding in an elvish tent, and in danger so long as these orcs lived. Nothing would happen to his Hobbit. Not while Thorin still lived. So he would fight to his dying breath. Dain nodded resolutely and let out a battle cry as he charged forward. Thorin grinned slightly and followed suit, sword held high as he ran into the fray.
OOOOO
Bilbo flinched as a high pitched scream echoed close to him. He looked up at the Elf assigned to protect him in his tent, his eyes big and scared.
"They're getting closer to the camp." He whispered, too afraid to raise his voice. The Elf frowned and put a comforting hand on Bilbo's shoulder.
"They will not reach us. King Thranduil's personal guard are keeping them far away from us." The Elf told him with a reassuring smile. Or it was supposed to be reassuring.
"What will happen...if they do reach us?" Bilbo asked, though he was sure he didn't actually want to know. The Elf took a moment to consider the small Hobbit he was in charge of, and decided that Bilbo would accept nothing less than the truth. He deserved nothing less than the truth, from what he understood. The Hobbit had been through much. It would be disrespectful to tell a lie just to soften the truth of the moment.
"If the orcs find us they will either kill us or attempt to capture us." He admitted.
"Attempt?" Bilbo questioned. Surely they would be successful, if they tried. Again the Elf hesitated before sighing.
"I have orders to spare you from such cruelty. If the orcs attempt to take you, I am to kill you. It is the more merciful option, I assure you." Bilbo swallowed, but nodded, and looked down at his large feet. The idea of dying was not exactly unappealing to him, and that's what scared him the most about the situation. He almost wished the orcs would get through and his guard would have to kill him. He cringed at the thought. What was wrong with him? He didn't even think like a Hobbit anymore. Was he a Hobbit if he was completely changed from who he once was?
He was still Hobbit enough to worry about everyone beyond his tent door. Well, everyone but the orcs and goblins, he supposed. He worried about the company and Gandalf. He worried about Thranduil and Legolas. He worried Bard and the Men of the Lake. Most of all, he worried about Thorin. He still didn't quite understand what had happened with Thorin before the gates of Erebor. One moment he was perfectly composed and definitely devoid of Madness. The next moment, he was telling Bilbo to leave and never come back.
Thorin had never wanted Bilbo to leave, not since the beginning. Once he got used to Bilbo, he wanted the Hobbit to stay with him no matter what. Even when he was Mad, he wanted Bilbo to stay. So why was he now demanding he leave? Was the Arkenstone really so powerful that it reduced Thorin back to Madness without the Dwarf even touching it? Was that why Thorin demanded Bilbo go? If so, then Bilbo hated the stone even more, if that were possible. He wished he'd shattered it on the rocks.
Mostly though, Bilbo worried that if the Arkenstone had returned Thorin to Gold Madness, would Thorin survive the war? If he did not have his full mind, would he be able to keep himself alive? Would he die because of some gem that was more like a Bane to the House of Durin? Bilbo would never forgive Thorin if he died because of Gold Madness. But he would also never forgive himself for allowing the Thorin to receive the Arkenstone.
His mind turned briefly to what would happen after the war. If they lost, Bilbo would likely be killed humanely by an Elf to prevent his capture by the orcs. If they won, Bilbo would no doubt be carted away to Mirkwood or, if he actually got his way, he'd be sent to Beorn. Would he even be allowed to see Thorin before he left? Would he see any of the company? He hoped he could at least see the company. Besides Balin and Dwalin, who he'd only seen briefly at the gates, he had not seen any of the Dwarves since Legolas dragged him from the mountain. He missed them. He missed them all, even Fili and Kili, the little tricksters.
He decided then that he would refuse to leave until he was allowed to see them. He doubted there was much he could really do to refuse leaving, but he'd throw the biggest fit they'd ever see if they actually tried making him go! But first they had to win, and live. That was a rather important formality.
There was another screech, this one much louder than the other, but also much different. And Bilbo recognized it instantly.
"The Eagles..." He whispered. His guard look at him curiously, but Bilbo was already up, running outside and looking at the sky. Overhead, dozens of giant Eagles were descending into the gray, screaming battle cries in their high pitched caws. They were accompanied by a distinct roar that Bilbo had once wondered if he'd ever hear again. Beorn. His shape shifter and the Eagles had come to help them!
"Master Baggins, it's not safe out here!" His guard hissed, trying to pull Bilbo back inside. Indeed, the orcs were merely a camp away. Bilbo could see some of their ugly faces, but Thranduil's guards were doing a good job of ridding the disgusting beings of said faces.
"But Beorn has come, and Eagles! We're safer now than we have been for days." Bilbo told him, like he was an idiot.
"When I receive confirmation of such a fact from qualified warriors, you may feel free to roam where ever you chose. For now, you will be safer inside." He reiterated, finally succeeding in pulling Bilbo into the tent. "Now will you stay here while I scout out the situation?" Bilbo nodded obediently, though he wasn't entirely sure if he was lying or not. He very well could stay inside while his guard was gone. But he was also entirely too curious. And entirely without self preservation at this point. Unfortunately for Bilbo, the Elf was alarmingly observant and seemed to pick up on that. He put his hand on Bilbo's shoulder, a solemn look on his face. "I'm sorry about this Master Baggins."
"About what?" Bilbo asked, sincerely confused. The Elf didn't reply. But his grip on Bilbo's shoulder slid up a little and he applied pressure over a nerve in the junction between Bilbo's neck and shoulder. Bilbo gasped as there was a flash of brief pain followed by an overwhelming darkness that dragged him into unconsciousness. The last thing that ran through his mind was about stupid Elves and their nerve pinches.
OOOOO
"I told you...everything would be...fine." Dain smirked at his cousin, but the effect was somewhat spoiled by the blood leaking from his mouth around several lost teeth. Thorin returned the smirk though, even if half his face was swollen from a particularly nasty hit he'd taken from a ridiculously ugly orc. The Elven healers Thranduil had sent over to check on the Dwarves only rolled their eyes at the two royals. Leave it to Dwarves to be disgustingly proud of looking like they'd just been tenderized for dinner.
"Eagles...they seem to solve every problem we have." Thorin murmured, flinching as an Elf applied something that stung to a gash over his eyebrow.
"Yes...we should really look into making an alliance with them." Dain agreed.
"I doubt they'd accept. They only seem to work well with Gandalf." Thorin pointed out. They both smiled ruefully. The tent door was unceremoniously pushed open, and Dwalin lumbered in, limping, but mostly in one piece. "Status?" Thorin asked, trying to maintain as much of his bravado as possible while being in a massive amount of pain. Overall, he had only suffered minimal damages, but Mahal did he hurt anyways. He had several broken ribs, lacerations covering most of his body, a large piece of spear sticking out from his leg, and a slight concussion. Well, he thought it was slight.
"There were heavy losses on all sides, but it appears it did the trick. The remaining orcs and goblins have fled, but we've sent out scouts just in case. They'll find any hidden clusters and eliminate them. The battlefield is being cleared of corpses, and services for the dead will be held as soon as we can arrange pyres for them all." Dwalin reported. Thorin took a moment to observe his friend. Dwalin's leg was in a splint, and there was a nasty bump on his dirty head, but mostly it looked like bruises and cuts. And he looked bloody exhausted. However, they all seemed to look exhausted at the moment. They had just lived through a terrible...terrible war.
"And the company?" Thorin asked hesitantly.
"All living...for the moment. Your nephews are unconscious, but that red haired Elf lass has decided to take on the role of healer for the both of them. Bifur is also out cold, but Oin has hope for him. The others will need some resting time, but we are a resilient bunch." Thorin chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, debating whether to ask about the sole Hobbit. In the end, he didn't have to ask. Dwalin was far too good at deciphering his oldest friend. "Gandalf reported that Bilbo is fine. He never got close to the fight. He had a very competent guard." Dwalin murmured the last bit with a smirk. Bilbo had apparently been rather put out with his guard, but they were all grateful to the Elf for keeping Bilbo safe. Thorin nodded, sighing in relief.
"When will he be sent to Mirkwood?" Dwalin looked a little nervous now.
"He has stated that he does not want to go to Mirkwood. He wants to return with Beorn to his home. And he has also stated that he will not leave before he is allowed to see the company and...and you." Thorin sighed, though this time it was heavy and even Dain cringed.
"Send a message to Gandalf to give to him. The company survives, everyone is fine. But he is unwelcome here. None of the company are willing to see him. He must depart." Thorin spoke, his stomach twisting even as he did. He did not want to hurt Bilbo by saying these things, but he had already decided that the safest place Bilbo could be was far from Erebor. He needed to go with Thranduil and Legolas back to Mirkwood. He needed to be healed, both physically and mentally, by the tree shaggers, as hard as it was for Thorin to admit. "As well, send a message to Beorn informing him of the worsening nature of Bilbo's...mental illness. He cannot take Bilbo to his home, certainly not until Bilbo can withstand his dark urges."
"I do not know if Beorn will listen to us." Dwalin whispered.
"For Bilbo's sake...he must. You must make him understand that Bilbo needs to be somewhere safe, somewhere where it will be impossible for him to hurt himself. As much as I despise admitting it...that place is Mirkwood." Dwalin nodded solemnly and limped out to deliver his messages. There was silence in the tent for a few long moments as the Elves went about their arduous task of healing the two Dwarves, and Thorin and Dain thought. Finally though, Dain spoke his thoughts.
"It's a little unfair." Thorin looked at his cousin and raised an eyebrow, completely confused by the random statement. "To both of you really. Bilbo will have to live thinking that you all hate him, and you will have to live without the one you love." Dain continued, a frown pulling down the corners of his lips.
"It's for the best." Thorin murmured, his hands curling into fists.
"Is it truly? Perhaps Bilbo would heal faster with you by his side."
"After all I have done to him? No, he deserves someone much better than me. He deserves so much more than I can give to him."
"You love him, and you will never love any more than you love him. What could be more than that? I believe that is the best thing you could give anyone. True, unbreakable devotion." Dain sighed, eyes sparkling with memories of his own One. "Perhaps Master Baggins believes the same." He suggested, but Thorin only looked away from his cousin. Even if Bilbo believed such a thing, Thorin knew he could not believe it. He kept telling himself, over and over as much as he could, that it was for Bilbo's own good. It was the only way he was going to be able to survive without his Hobbit.
OOOOO
Thranduil frowned as he looked over the reports his commanders had brought him. They had suffered terrible casualties, but every side had. He had expected such loss, in fact he had expected substantially higher numbers, even complete defeat. But it was still such a tragedy.
Thranduil put the reports to the side and rubbed at his temples. He had survived the war with minimal damage, nothing that his Elven healing would not take care of within a few days. But he was very tired. He wanted to return to his kingdom and rest there for at least a few centuries. But there was still much to be done. Politics and other delicate processes that needed his attention. He'd be sending most of his remaining troops, and his son, back to Mirkwood soon though. And the Hobbit.
Bilbo expressed a deep contempt for returning to Mirkwood. He wanted to go with the shape shifter. But they all agreed, even Beorn, that it would not be a good idea at the time for Bilbo to be so unsupervised. Not that Beorn would fail at supervising the Hobbit, but the Bear-Man had quite the soft spot for little Bilbo, and the Halfling would take advantage of that. In Mirkwood he would be strictly watched and mentally healed. Elves were known for their accomplishments in healing, physical and mental. Bilbo would not be pleased though.
Thranduil sighed, and grimaced because it was such a...mortal thing to do. But it expressed his feelings remarkably well at the moment. Bilbo Baggins was quite the handful. All any of them wanted was the best for the young Hobbit. They all wanted him healthy and happy. They all regretted their parts in how he was. They all wanted to do something. And Bilbo hated them all for it. Even if he never said as much, it was fairly evident.
"Your Majesty." Thranduil looked up. The Elf assigned to guard his tent looked nervous and somewhat small. Rightfully so. Thranduil had asked not to be disturbed for the rest of the night. What could be so blasted important that his own guards were ignoring his orders?
"What is it?" Thranduil asked in a spectacularly calm voice considering how annoyed he was. The guard swallowed anxiously anyway.
"I-It's the wizard sir. I told him you wanted not to be disturbed but he's...persisting that-"
"Yes fine." Thranduil sighed. Leave it to Gandalf to ruin the closest thing to peace that he would have in the coming weeks. "Show him in then." The guard nodded and hastily removed himself. There were hushed words and then Gandalf walked in. He looked troubled, and in Thranduil's experience, that was never a good thing. "Master Gandalf."
"King Thranduil...we have a problem."
"Another one?" Thranduil asked, eyebrow arching in a mixture of irritation and disbelief.
"The same one we've had all along. Master Baggins." Gandalf sighed.
"I was just thinking about him. Won't you have a seat?" Gandalf readily took the offered seat, rubbing his forehead like he had a head ache. "What precisely do you believe the problem to be? I have a fairly good idea, but I'd like your input." Thranduil poured two glasses of wine, sliding one across the rickety table to the wizard. To his surprise, Gandalf took it and downed in within moments.
"Oh there are many problems. Abandonment issues, terrible self esteem, poor coping choices. The list could probably go on for quite some time. My current problem happens to be his breathtaking stubbornness." Gandalf huffed, a furrow creasing his brow.
"He is still protesting being taken to Mirkwood." It wasn't necessarily a question, but Gandalf nodded anyways. "I believe his resistance may be the illogical part of himself warring with the sensible side. He must know that Mirkwood is the best place for him. He must know how much help the Elves can pose for him, especially in his current situation. But, like so many others with any given mental illness, he is more than likely comfortable with how he is handling himself and wishes not to change."
"Unfortunately I believe you are right." Thranduil nodded and poured more wine for Gandalf. This time the wizard drank it slowly, closing his eyes and letting his shoulders slump a little.
"I have dealt with a case similar to his before. A young Elfling, only in the eve of her life. She felt pressure and stress resulting from her studies and family and she felt she had no other way of dealing with it. She also began shedding her blood to deal with these problems." Thranduil told Gandalf, a thoughtful look on his face as he remembered the young Elf. She was a beautiful girl, with dark chestnut hair and sparkling blue eyes. Of course, she never believed she was as lovely as she was, due to her elder sister who was believed to be the true and only beauty of the family. It was truly a sad tale.
"What happened to her?" Gandalf asked, though he sounded hesitant for the answer. The sigh that escaped Thranduil's lips did not help his anxiety one bit.
"By the time the situation was brought to mine, and the healers, attentions...she had and infinite amount of scars. She was hurting herself every day, and not superficially. The cutting was not the worst of it though. When she was confined to the healing wing, she had taken a near fatal dose of poison which we luckily were able to expel from her system before she could die. She still resides in one of our safe rooms. Though I've heard she is much better." Gandalf felt his gut twists.
"Do you believe that Bilbo's condition could worsen to that point? To taking his own life?" The wizard hardly even dare ask it.
"I would not be surprised if he has already tried. The Dragon sealed all of his wounds, perhaps the wounds were how the Dragon managed to secure him in the first place. If there were too many of them, Bilbo would be weak. But we would never know about it because Bilbo would never tell us, and the evidence of them has all but disappeared now. His wounds all look the same." Gandalf nodded. He'd been thinking the same thing in recent days. "As much as it pains me to imagine Master Baggins confined to a safe room...if he worsens much more it may be the only option."
"I am forced to agree with you. I never imagined that young Master Baggins would turn to this. I suppose I should have considered the possibility, Dwarves are not exactly delicate and Hobbits need a certain amount of affection every day which Bilbo has not had for a very long time. Even before the quest, he was a solitary figure, without family and with only few friends. I thought that would be beneficial on a quest, but I see I was wrong." Thranduil couldn't help but smile, even if it was small and bitter.
"I don't believe I've ever heard an Istari admit to being wrong." He pointed out, and Gandalf returned the wry and sad smile.
"The power of Hobbits. They can make the impossible occur in varying ways." The wizard joked. "You must send him to Mirkwood soon. Before he tries to run. As soon as he realizes he will not be able to go with Beorn, I am sure he will try. I would send him with Legolas as soon as tomorrow. And I will accompany them if you so choose." Thranduil nodded solemnly before turning his eyes down to his cluttered table. So many reports and treaties and things that needed to be attended to. He wished he could accompany his son and their newest resident himself. But he had far too much to do before he could even think of returning home.
"I will inform Legolas. I am sure he will only be too glad to spirit the young one away from all of this." Thranduil's lips quirked into a smile again, this one less bitter and more genuine.
"I have noticed a certain fondness in Legolas for Master Baggins." Gandalf agreed, a bushy eyebrow arching and his lips curling slightly.
"My son falling for a Hobbit. Who would have thought. But stranger things have happened. For instance, Thorin Oakenshield succumbing to Gold Sickness and recovering all in less than a month." Thranduil pointed out.
"The recover, incidentally, also caused by Bilbo. I cannot say I like the way Bilbo influenced the recovery, but it appeared to be quite effective. I'm told Thorin has not set foot in the treasury since long before the battle began. And he has sent the Arkenstone down into the vaults that are hardly visited." Gandalf mentioned.
"Curious, the powers of Hobbits are truly unfathomable. It makes one wonder if, in the future, we will be seeing more of them, and hearing more of their deeds."
"Oh not of their own free will, I assure you. But the will of a wizard is unparalleled, or so I'm told." Gandalf winked slyly. "I must be off. There is still much to do before the morning comes. And I must prepare myself for the fit our Master Baggins will endure upon being told of his altered destination."
"I certainly do not envy you. I do not particularly envy myself though, either." They shared on last exchange of wry smiles before Gandalf stood and Thranduil pulled over yet another stack of papers to review. "Goodnight Master Gandalf."
"Goodnight King Thranduil."
OOOOO
Beorn didn't know how long he would be able to sit with Bilbo, knowing that he'd have to disappoint the Little Bunny eventually. He'd agreed with the rulers of the races that Bilbo should go to Mirkwood. But it still hurt his heart that Little Bunny would be so miserable. He wished the Hobbit could join him in his home, but he knew himself too well than to think he'd be able to deny Bilbo anything he asked. Even if it was something bad. He had such a soft spot for Little Bunnies with big eyes and sniffly noses.
He knew Bilbo would be going to his new home in the forest soon, so he was trying to spend time with the Hobbit. But it made him feel guilty and sad for having to deceive him. For giving him hope when Bilbo was destined for Mirkwood soon. But he was also giving comfort, which he was more comfortable doing. Especially when the message came for Bilbo that he was not allowed to go see his Dwarves. And that Thorin Oakenshield refused to see him. Oh how Bilbo cried, though Beorn knew the real reason Thorin was being so cold to him.
The only objective any of them had was to protect Bilbo. But to protect him, they had to hurt the poor soul. It was not fair, but when had anything difficult ever been fair to anyone? Still, Beorn wondered how much they were actually helping, when Bilbo was being so silent and sad. He certainly didn't look even close to happy.
"Beorn?" Bilbo whispered between sniffles. He was curled up in the skin changers lap, basking in the natural heat. Strangely enough, he was holding a silver collar in his hands. Well, to Beorn it was more like a bracelet. But Bilbo had not let go of it for hours now. It seemed to comfort him is some odd way Beorn did not pretend to understand. But as long as it helped in some way, Beorn did not have it in him to question it.
"Yes Little Bunny?" He asked softly. Bilbo sniffled and gripped the collar tight before his hands loosened a little.
"Why does Thorin hate me so much? He kept saying he loved me, when he was Mad and other times too. But he sent me away, and he won't see me. He didn't look Mad anymore before the battle. So why does he hate me?" Bilbo's voice sounded so vulnerable, so child like. So sad. It pierced Beorn right through his large heart.
"Sometimes there is no simple answer Little Bunny. Sometimes there is no answer at all. All I do know is that he is an idiot if he hates you." Bilbo didn't seem cheered by his words, but he didn't burst into fresh tears either.
"I think I love him Beorn. And I don't know why, or when, I started to love him. But it made me so sad when he was sick with Madness. And I wanted nothing more than to turn back time to when we came to your home, when we were still far from the mountain. I wish I could have Thorin as he was then. When he cared so much about me that he tried to send me away. When he tried to protect me by being-" Bilbo stopped, and Beorn held his breath, praying Bilbo wouldn't try to make the connection. Or at the very least, that he wouldn't try to do anything about it.
After a few minutes, Bilbo returned to spinning the collar in his hands, leaving the conversation completely abandoned and giving Beorn no hint of what he was thinking. It was unnerving to the skin changer. He didn't like being unnerved. But he didn't want to bring the subject back up and wind up doing something stupid. It was for the best that Bilbo gave up on Thorin, and went with the Elves. That's what everyone said. It was for the best. Maybe in theory, but in reality it only seemed to be making Bilbo miserable.
There was a sort of knock on the canvas of the tent door before it was pushed open and Gandalf walked in, smiling sadly at the teary eyed Hobbit. He closed the tent behind him and sat on the other side of the cot, saying nothing for a very long moment. Beorn thought he probably knew what Gandalf had come to tell the Hobbit. But all his messages to Bilbo had been rather bad news, at least to Bilbo they were bad news, and so it was only natural that he was hesitating to tell Bilbo whatever it was he had now.
"The sun will be rising in a few hours." Gandalf finally started. Bilbo nodded glumly, sniffling in that way that made Beorn's heart throb. "When it does, Legolas will be departing for Mirkwood." Gandalf added, apparently taking this bit by bit. Again Bilbo nodded, his face darkening a little. He could probably also guess where this was going. "And you will be going with him Bilbo."
"No." The Hobbit immediately bit.
"I am sorry. But the decision has not been left to you this time Bilbo. It is for the best that you go with Legolas to Mirkwood, and you know it." Bilbo turned his terribly big blue eyes up to Beorn, begging the skin changer to say it wasn't so. That he was going to go with Beorn and not Legolas. When Beorn said nothing, the last of the hope in Bilbo's eyes faded and was replaced with fresh tears.
"How can you do this to me? How can you send me off like a prisoner?" He demanded, though his voice was choked and both the Big Folk cringed.
"It is for the be-"
"Stop saying that! You all keep saying that, but it is not for the best! How can any of this be for the best! How can it even be an option when all it is doing is causing me an inexcusable amount of emotional pain!" Bilbo shrieked, clambering off Beorn's lap and fiercely trying to hide his sadness and hurt with his anger. Even still, a few tears made their way down his pale cheeks. "Thorin has banished me and denied me the chance of seeing the company! I cannot go back to the Shire because it will never be my home again! I cannot go with Beorn even though it is the only place I still might be able to find a home! Instead you are sentencing me to a life in Mirkwood where I will be restrained and miserable! And you have the nerve to tell me that all of this is for the best?"
Neither Gandalf or Beorn could reply. And the usual hum and buzz of noise outside the tent was now a silence which spoke of listening ears.
"I know that Thorin is making me go because he thinks it is protecting me! But if I am to be sent away like some disgraceful thing that you are all ashamed of, at least tell him one thing for me. If he really loved me, he would not be protecting me, he would be helping me! Now I want both of you to leave me alone! I would like some time to myself and if you refuse me it, I shall show you exactly why hell hath no fury like a Hobbit scorned!" The Big Folk could only stare at Bilbo dumbly for quite a few moments before Gandalf shook himself from his shock and stood.
"Very well Bilbo. You may have these few hours to yourself. I do hope you won't abuse them." It must have been Bilbo's imagination. There was no way Gandalf's eyes flicked to the pile of clothes in the corner where he hid his knife. There was no way Gandalf knew it was there. The wizard looked at him intently for another few moments before taking his leave. Then Beorn stood, looking appropriately miserable for having just been scolded by a Hobbit.
"I am sorry Little Bunny. I do wish you could come home with me. And someday, when you are better, you will come home. When you are better." Beorn mumbled before leaving quickly, too afraid that Bilbo would start yelling again if he dallied.
Bilbo waited until the noise started up again outside before he sat heavily on his cot and stared at the wall of the tent. He sat there, anger giving way to sadness and a feeling of betrayal. And then the tears came. Hot and heavy as they dripped down his cheeks. Eru how he hated crying. He glanced at the pile of clothes and oh how he wanted the knife. But he was exhausted. He could feel it down to his very bones. He didn't think he could even crawl to the knife at this point. All he had the energy to do was fall to his side, his head miraculously falling onto his pillow. And within moments he was asleep, his emotions haunting him even in his sleep.
OOOOO
AN: A lot of feels in this one. A lot. Like dear lord...I'm exhausted. Anyways, I'm nearly 78.24% sure that the next chapter will be the last chapter. Well, one of the last chapters. I've decided to do two endings because I just couldn't decide on one. Neither of them are particularly happy, but one is more burstoutintotears than the other. If that makes any sense. I'll try to have the first ending out next Friday and the second ending out soon after, but once again I have to make no promises. And who knows, I may end up doing another chapter before the end chapter. It all depends! On what? Well that is a good question...
Thank you for reading this chapter and feel free to leave a comment or ask a question, particularly if you want something resolved in the last chapter that you think may not be resolved. Thanks a bunch!