Many Paths: Chapter One
May. 15th, 2015 12:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flakediceTitle: Many Paths
Author(s): Flakedice
Artist(s):![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
charlies_dragon, penumbria_fics and croix_souillees
Fandom(s): The Hobbit
Type: Slash
Rating: Mature
Word Count/Art type: 44,550 words
Characters/Pairings: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Warnings/Spoilers: major character death, graphic violence, gore, torture, psychological torture, ptsd, (tiny bit of) self-harm, suicide (sort of), mental illness (Please highlight to read)
Summary: Bilbo wakes up in Dale. With the memory of a battle won but lives lost, he finds an army of Men and Elves readying to attack Erebor. Bilbo tries to save his dwarves. Again and again.
MANY PATHS
There was blood on his hands.
Bilbo stared at them. Empty of tears. Empty of feeling. Staring at Thorin's blood on his hands.
It had been warm at first, a seeping river of life. But then it had gotten cold, an icy wetness that burned more than his tears.
It had dried and now it felt like nothing. But Bilbo could see it on his hands, his fingers. Dull scarlet against pale pinched skin-
Bilbo's eyes sprang open. A rough wooden roof confronted him, large cobwebs hanging in disturbingly thick white threads.
Not stone.
Bilbo stared. Blinked his eyes and stared harder.
He knew this roof. It was the room in Dale he had slept in-
Bilbo sat up, staring as he caught sight of the blanket on his lap. It was a worn cloak - not enough of a blanket for the tall folk but more than adequate for a Hobbit-
He was in Dale. He recognized the room. And the sounds of Men and Elves readying for battle beyond the walls.
Did - did that mean it had all been a dream? Bilbo covered his mouth with one hand. It had felt real.
He let out a burst of nervous laughter, startlingly loud in the silent room.
A hard thud rang out on his door, rattling the rotting wood in its frame. "Oi! Keep it down in there!"
Alfrid. Bilbo cast a look of dislike at the door. One thing was certain. He had to make his way back to the Mountain and rejoin the Company.
~x~X~x~
Bilbo waited until the hours before dawn, when the sounds of the Elves and Men's preparations for war had settled into uneasy rest. He edged open the rotting shutters of the room's sole window and pulled himself up onto the ledge. Balancing on the splintering wood, he pulled the shutters closed behind him and hopped down.
He landed in a crouch, waiting for a long moment to see if anyone had noticed his escape. There was silence; no outcry or any other indication that anyone had seen the shutters open.
Bilbo quickly slipped away from the abandoned house, keeping to the shadows. He had learnt to move quietly over the course of the quest and that knowledge served him well now. It didn't take much to keep out of sight; the former inhabitants of Lake-town were more concerned with tending fires and gathering resources to secure shelter for the night. No one was concerned by the odd soft shuffling noise or too-large footprints left in the snow.
The Elves were more alert but on watch for enemies outside the city, not anyone attempting to leave. It took some time but Bilbo managed to find a part of the crumbling wall that was far enough from the patrolling guards.
The fact that he had used the same escape route in his dream was simply coincidence. He had taken note of the small gap in the wall as he made his way into the ruined city. No one had spotted him when he had slipped into Dale, not thinking such a small space was enough of a gap for the enemy to fit through.
It was a bit tight even for Bilbo but he had lost his comfortable Hobbit padding on their journey and was able to wiggle through.
Once he was far enough away from the walls that any noise would be disregarded, Bilbo set out for the Lonely Mountain.
Braziers lit the top of the gate, a beacon in the night. Bilbo didn't have as good a night vision as the dwarves, but Hobbits could see through the night better than Men. It wasn't hard for Bilbo to make his way across the frozen stone and earth, bladed frost crunching beneath his feet.
A bare expanse of ground that had become a battlefield in his dream. Bilbo held back a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. It wouldn't come to war if he could prevent it.
He reached the bottom of the gate without incident. Bilbo leapt from one block of overturned stone to another, using both hands and feet to prevent slipping into the icy water.
Bilbo had no intention entering water ever again, thank you very much.
Feet in danger of sticking to the icy stone, Bilbo leapt up, grasping the rope hanging down from the wall. Bracing himself against stone, Bilbo pulled himself up the rope, climbing the hastily-blocked gate.
It didn't take long - a few minutes - and he was standing on the wall above the gate, the braziers a welcome warmth in the night. Bilbo reached out to untie the rope but hesitated, the image of Thorin's furious face flashing through his mind. It had just been a dream (if a horribly realistic one) but it was still enough to stop Bilbo's hand.
With an uneasy look at the fall below, Bilbo pulled the rope back up, winding it in a neat coil which he tucked out of sight. The situation was perilous enough.
There was no need to tempt fate.
He had made his move. Taken the Arkenstone out of Thorin's reach and made a bid for peace. The rest would be up to Thorin.
He ignored the images of disaster from his dream. Thorin's angry response shouted from the wall.
His attempt to throw Bilbo over.
Bilbo squared his shoulders, rolling his neck. That wouldn't happen. He wasn't afraid of Thorin. He’d always had an overactive imagination and it had only grown worse now he knew the perils of the world. Sick though he was, Thorin wouldn't hurt him.
~x~X~x~
For a moment Bilbo thought Thorin would listen to reason, would take the way out Bilbo had provided. Use Bilbo's share of the treasure to buy peace.
He should have known better.
"It's a trick!" Thorin's voice was almost manic. Unhinged.
Horribly familiar.
Bilbo stepped forward, steeling himself. "It's no trick. The stone is real. I gave it to them."
Thorin turned towards him, expression frozen. "You?" It was said almost calmly.
Bilbo took it as a good sign. He held Thorin's gaze, willing him to pull free from the dragon sickness. "I took it as my fourteenth share."
"You would steal from me?" Thorin's voice was quiet. Dangerous.
"Steal from you? No." Bilbo hastened to head Thorin off." His mouth twitched nervously, an aborted smile. "I may be a burglar but I like to think I am an honest one." Bilbo let out a nervous laugh, stretching up on his toes. Trying to ignore the frantic, gibbering voice in his mind. This has happened before!
Thorin took a step forward, a look of almost amused disbelief on his face.
It was not humour, though.
"I'm willing to let it stand against my claim." Bilbo added, somewhat desperately.
"Against your claim?" Thorin sounded almost amused. And just as suddenly the amusement vanished.
It had never been humour.
"Your claim." Thorin's words were filled with contempt. He stepped forward, face twisting. "You have no claim over me, you miserable rat!" He threw aside his bow, the weapon clattering loudly on cold stone, and stalked forward.
It wasn't meant to happen like this. Bilbo took a step back and then forced himself to step forward again, refusing to retreat. This was Thorin, not a threat. "I was going to give it to you. Many times I wanted to, but..."
Smaug's voice slithered through his mind. I am almost tempted to let you take it, if only to see Oakenshield suffer, watch it destroy him, watch it corrupt his heart and drive him mad.”
"But what, thief?" It was gritted out, Thorin's deep voice as hard and unyielding as the stone beneath their feet. But Thorin was still listening to him. Surely that was a sign he could still hear reason.
Bilbo held his gaze, determined to get through to him, once and for all. "You are changed, Thorin." His voice grew in strength as he finally gave voice to the words he had been thinking for days. "The dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word."
Thorin's gaze flickered.
Encouraged, Bilbo seized the moment and pressed on, gaze flicking towards the rest of the Company. Suddenly filled with the wrongness that had overtaken Thorin since setting foot inside the mountain. The dwarf he knew- "Would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!"
Thorin drew in a breath, eyes glinting with unshed tears.
Bilbo held his breath.
"Do not speak to me of loyalty."
Bilbo's heart sank. He had failed.
But Thorin hadn't acted against him like he had in Bilbo's dream. Maybe-
"Throw him from the rampart!"
Bilbo's head shot up, body freezing in icy shock. No. No, no, no-
The Company stood stunned. Fili turned his head away, as if refusing to even hear his uncle’s words.
Thorin turned, shoulders tensing in anger as he caught sight of Fili. He stalked towards him, grabbing Fili's shoulders and pulling him forwards. "Did you not hear me?!" His voice was an enraged lash.
But Fili pulled free, jerking his arm away in rejection.
Bilbo felt hope leap in his chest. The Company would not obey Thorin. Perhaps together they could convince him-
Thorin span, eyes fixed on Bilbo with furious intent. "I will do it myself. Curse you!" Furious tears in his eyes, Thorin lunged forward, gripping Bilbo's shoulders in an enraged grasp. He pulled Bilbo forward, dragging him toward the wall.
Bilbo struggled, leaning back, legs straining as he tried to pull free. Thorin wouldn't-
But he was.
"No!" It was Kili.
They were spinning, the world twisting and violent. A grasp on his coat from behind pulled them to a halt.
He was being tugged back and forth. Thorin dragging him to the wall, Fili trying to pull him back. Kili trying to pull Thorin away.
But Thorin was a powerful dwarf. Enraged, he had no equal.
"Curse the wizard who forced you upon us!" Thorin wrenched them free from Fili and Kili's grasp.
Bilbo was jerked forward. Slung up against the wall of the gate, Thorin holding him down and starting to push him over the edge-
Thorin was going to kill him.
"If you don't like my burglar." The words echoed, pulsating with a power that echoed against the mountain. Bilbo could feel it in the stones under his back.
Thorin froze, head lifting, Bilbo still pinned beneath his hands.
"Then please don't damage him." Gandalf continued. "Return him to me."
Bilbo panted, looking up at Thorin's face, hands held defensively in front of his chest. This had happened before. His dream. It was the same. Almost exactly the same.
Gandalf was talking but Bilbo didn't hear his words. He was staring at Thorin.
Thorin who was going to die.
Thorin blinked, grip suddenly loosening.
Bilbo seized his chance and rolled off the wall into Fili's desperate hands, feeling stunned.
Bofur rushed forward, guiding him out of the way as Thorin shouted down at Gandalf.
"Never again shall I have dealings with wizards!"
The anger in his voice made Bilbo shudder.
"Go." Bofur pushed him forward, towards the rope tied to the gate.
Thorin's voice turned vicious. "Or shire rats!"
With shaking hands, Bilbo flung the rope over the wall and hastily followed it over the side. His grip was shaky but he held tight, the phrase you know how this ends, you know how this ends pounding with then beat of his heart.
"Are we resolved?” Bard called out, voice tense. “The Arkenstone for what we were promised?"
Bilbo landed on stone, heart beat loud in his ears and shaking, barely able to follow Bard's words. There was still a chance. A possibility that Thorin-
"-your answer." Bard continued, voice strained. "Will you have peace? Or war?"
The silence stretched. And was broken by a loud caw.
A large black bird flew overhead to land on the wall at Thorin's side.
A raven.
Bearing a message, as you well know. The mental voice was acerbic, as sharp as the one he had used in the past when attempting to reason with the Company.
On cue there was a loud rumble that could be felt through the earth.
Thorin's voice carried over the silent armies at the gate. "I will have war."
A dwarven army appeared over the hill. Dain's army.
Bilbo stumbled as he made his way away from the gate. It was all the same. How had he ever thought it could be different?
He made his way to Gandalf who shot him a concerned look and steadied him with one large hand before urging him forward.
Bilbo followed, stumbling along under Gandalf's hand. It had happened exactly as it had in his dream.
He looked up at Gandalf stopped, following his gaze to the dwarven lord who rode his war boar confidently down the side of the rocky slope.
"Dain." He could hear the desperation in his voice.
Gandalf shot him a sharp glance. "Yes. Dain Ironfoot. Thorin's cousin."
There would be war. It was undeniable now, Bilbo knew. He could only hope the rest of his dream was false.
But a sinking sense of dread was filling his chest. Even with what he knew, could he change what was to happen?
Bilbo glanced back at the mountain. He would have to.
~x~X~x~
When the were-worm burst out of the earth, Bilbo's shoulders slumped. Sting came to rest hopelessly on his shoulder as his gesture of shock turned to resigned despair. How could he turn the tide of battle when they were so outnumbered?
Horns sounded. Armies on the move and about to converge.
"Bilbo! To the city!" Gandalf urged him to a run. "This way!"
Bilbo followed, knowing he was no use on the battlefield. He would have to do what he could for Dale.
~x~X~x~
The sound of a giant horn rang out. Bilbo looked up, knowledge kindling in his heart. "Thorin."
He ran to the rampart, hands braced on the edge. The gate had opened, the Company running out to join the battle. "The dwarves. They're rallying!"
Gandalf appeared next to him. "They're rallying to their king." His voice was full of satisfaction.
Thorin. Only Thorin in his right mind could command such loyalty, such a renewal of strength.
Bilbo could feel it in his own heart. A sudden leap of hope.
The battle could be turned. Thorin could break free of the gold sickness.
With his strength of will, he could survive.
Bilbo gripped the wall, watching as the dwarves surged forward to attack with renewed vigour.
They were outnumbered but with the fierceness of their fighting they were forcing the orcs back. Bilbo could see Thorin meeting Dain in pocket clear of the fighting.
Gandalf leaned over the wall, eyes narrowing as he surveyed the battlefield.
There was movement below. Large rams cutting through the orcs and moving up to the steep hill to Ravenhill. Thorin.
"Gandalf!"
Bilbo turned to see the two elves arrive on horseback. Bilbo recognised them. Prince Legolas, Thranduil's son. And Tauriel, Kili's beau.
"Legolas Greenleaf." Gandalf expression was one of pleased surprise.
"We have come from Gundabad." Legolas was grim, tight lipped. "Bolg is leading another army from the north."
A look of alarm crossed Gandalf's face. He spun around, running back to rampart. "This is what Azog intended. Azog invades with an army to engage us and Bolg sweeps in from the north."
“Where is the north?" Bilbo had to ask to be sure.
Gandalf shot him a look. "Ravenhill."
"Ravenhill." Bilbo echoed in horror. "Thorin is up there." And Fili and Kili. They were all up there.
~x~X~x~
Thranduil would not risk himself for Thorin. That had never changed.
Bilbo stepped forward, grim resolve straightening his shoulders. "I'll go." He had to go.
Gandalf turned. "Don't be ridiculous. You'll never make it."
Bilbo smiled mirthlessly. "Why not?" He had before after all.
"Because they will see you and kill you." Gandalf said, exasperated, as he drew closer.
"No they won't." Bilbo shook his head, a small smile on his face. "They won't see me."
"It's out of the question." Gandalf shook his head. He drew himself up. "I won't allow it."
"I'm not asking you to allow it, Gandalf." The words he had spoken before fell easily from his lips. He would not be turned aside.
Bilbo left before Gandalf could stop him. He reached for the ring and pulled it on. And then he ran through the city, dodging ghostly swords.
~x~X~x~
Bilbo stumbled up to the top of the rise. Shadowy shapes stood before him, not as tall as orcs or men. Dwarves.
Bilbo pulled off the ring, the world suddenly jolting into sharp focus.
"Bilbo!" Thorin took a step towards him, face alight with surprise and joy.
But Bilbo didn't have time to dwell on how pleased Thorin looked to see him. "You have to get out of here now. Azog has another army attacking from the north. Ravenhill will be completely surrounded.” He licked his dry lips. “With no way out.”
He scanned the ruins around them. Only Dwalin and Thorin were here, Bilbo suddenly realised with a cold chill. Kili and Fili-
"We are so close." Dwalin was straining toward the tower ahead of them, like a dog on the leash. "That orc scum is in the tower. I say we push on."
"No." Thorin's gaze fell on the tower. "That's what he wants."
If there was any indication to show Thorin was free of the dragon sickness, that proved it. A clear eyed assessment of the situation.
Bilbo dragged in a breath, nearly choking on it in his relief, trying to regain his breath. Leaving Thorin and Dwalin to argue amongst themselves. Trying to push away the sense that this had already happened and anything he did was a foregone conclusion.
"He wants to draw us in," Thorin continued. "This is a trap."
It was. Bilbo heart seized as he recalled his dream. Fili-
"Find Kili and Fili. Call them back." Thorin was already issuing the order.
Dwalin stepped away from the edge, eyes still flicking back to the tower. "Are you sure about this?"
"Do it." Thorin was walking over to Bilbo. "We will live to fight another day."
Another day, Bilbo thought with an edge of hysteria. He had heard those words before.
He had heard this argument before.
A low reverberating sound echoed out over the ice. A drum.
Thorin and Dwalin had both turned towards the source and as they watched lights appeared at the top of the tower.
Not just lights. Azog. The white orc was dragging someone.
Fili.
“No.” Bilbo felt like he was choking, that there was not enough air to breathe.
The white orc stopped at the edge of the overlook and held out his arm, holding Fili over the long fall below.
No. No, this was not happening again. Bilbo shook his head, lips moving silently as he stared at Fili helpless in the white orc's grip.
"Go!" Fili's desperate voice rang out, one last act of sacrifice. "Run!"
Azog stabbed Fili with his blade. And opened his hand.
Bilbo's eyes slammed shut, but the image was already burned into his mind. Fili. Fili was gone.
His eyes opened. He was vaguely aware that Thorin had left and Dwalin was following.
Bilbo stumbled back, drawing Sting. Fili. Fili was dead. He could have prevented this. He could have-
Thorin had already left. And Dwalin, Dwalin was already battling orcs.
Bolg had arrived.
Bilbo ran down the steps to reach Dwalin where he was fighting the orcs.
There was a pile of stones nearby. (The same he had found last time) Bilbo scooped them up and started throwing, knocking down orcs before they could reach Dwalin to overpower him.
The moves were automatic: he had already done this before, after all.
When Bolg ran towards him and caught him with a blow it was almost a relief.
~x~X~x~
He was lying on something cold and hard. Bilbo cracked his eyes open, his head splitting with the move.
The sky met his gaze. Pale with cloud.
The eagles are coming.
Bilbo's eyes shot open. Thorin!
Bilbo scrambled to his feet, stumbling as he hurried to the edge of the overlook.
A small figure stood on the ice below, staring out at the battlefield below. Thorin.
For a moment Bilbo thought his dream had been just that. That Thorin would turn around and walk away unharmed.
And then he fell.
Bilbo ran.
Stone and ice were equally as cold under his feet, his surroundings a blur. Exhaustion fled in the face of cold panic.
He slowed only as he reached Thorin's fallen form. He lay in the same spot Bilbo had seen him die.
Bilbo flung himself down at Thorin's side, hands hovering uselessly over his wound.
"Bilbo." Thorin's hand rose to grip weakly at his arm.
"Don't move." Bilbo gingerly peeled back the cloth covering his wound, blanching at the mess of blood and exposed flesh. "Don't move. Lie still." He lightly touched the wound, recoiled at the wet flow of blood and then gently covered the wound again. "Shush."
"I'm glad you're here." Thorin ignored him just as he always did. His eyes fixed on Bilbo's face, alight and direct. "I wish to part from you in friendship."
"No." Bilbo shook his head. "You're not going anywhere." He rested a hand on Thorin's shoulder, holding his gaze. "You're going to live Thorin." He had to live. Bilbo looked back at the wound. Surely it wasn't that bad?
But he hadn't tended wounds before. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what to do.
"I would take back," Thorin gasped, hand tightening on Bilbo's arm, "my words and deeds at the gate." He drew in a breath. "You did what only a true friend would do." He took a breath. "Forgive me."
Bilbo shook his head.
"I was too blind to see it." Pain and weariness stained Thorin's words but he kept his gaze on Bilbo. "I am so sorry that I have led you into such peril." He coughed wetly, turning aside.
"No," Bilbo leaned forward, lightly patting Thorin's shoulder to be sure of his attention. "I am glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin. Each and every one of them."
Thorin turned to face him, eyes widened in surprised warmth.
Bilbo tightened his grip on Thorin's coat. "It is far more than any Baggins deserves." He, who should have kept them safe.
Thorin smiled, the pain falling from his face. "Farewell, Master Burglar."
Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut, pained to hear it again-
A soft smile softened Thorin's face. "Go back to your books. And your armchair. Plant your trees." His half-lidded eyes were fond. "Watch them grow."
Bilbo kept his eyes fixed on Thorin's face, unable to look away. He couldn't turn away with Thorin looking at him like that.
Thorin's gaze turned inward. "If more people valued home above gold," his eyes focused on Bilbo's face, "this world would be a merrier place." His breath caught and he struggled to breathe.
Bilbo's throat tightened. "No. No. No." He found himself repeating the word over and over as if the denial alone could stave off Thorin's death. He jumped at his wet cough. "Th-Thorin, don't you dare-"
But Thorin's gaze had softened, the last breath escaping his lips in a soft sigh.
"Thorin." It was a broken whisper.
Bilbo sank to his side, arm coming around Thorin's head, one hand pressing to his still chest. "Thorin. Thorin hold on. Hold on please. The eagles- the eagles are here. Thorin? The eagles-" His voice broke and tears trailed from his eyes. Bilbo lifted a hand to shift them but it was no use.
The eagles had arrived and Thorin was gone.
~x~X~x~
Bilbo sat numbly on the icy rock, staring down at his bloody hands. Thorin had died. Again.
Everything had happened just as it had in his dream.
Fili. Kili.
Thorin.
His friends were dead just as he had dreamed they would.
A warm touch teased the edge of his lips and Bilbo reached up to touch his face.
His hand came away pale red. Not just tears but blood. His head throbbed dully but Bilbo was transfixed.
His head wound. If he hadn't lain fallen so long could he have prevented this? If he hadn't taken the Arkenstone?
Bilbo sat amidst stone and snow, the weight of guilt holding him still and silent.
~x~X~x~
When Bilbo next woke, it was to a familiar cobwebbed roof.
~x~X~x~
On to Chapter Two
~x~X~x~
Author(s): Flakedice
Artist(s):
charlies_dragon, penumbria_fics and croix_souillees Fandom(s): The Hobbit
Type: Slash
Rating: Mature
Word Count/Art type: 44,550 words
Characters/Pairings: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Warnings/Spoilers: major character death, graphic violence, gore, torture, psychological torture, ptsd, (tiny bit of) self-harm, suicide (sort of), mental illness (Please highlight to read)
Summary: Bilbo wakes up in Dale. With the memory of a battle won but lives lost, he finds an army of Men and Elves readying to attack Erebor. Bilbo tries to save his dwarves. Again and again.
MANY PATHS
CHAPTER ONE
There was blood on his hands.
Bilbo stared at them. Empty of tears. Empty of feeling. Staring at Thorin's blood on his hands.
It had been warm at first, a seeping river of life. But then it had gotten cold, an icy wetness that burned more than his tears.
It had dried and now it felt like nothing. But Bilbo could see it on his hands, his fingers. Dull scarlet against pale pinched skin-
Bilbo's eyes sprang open. A rough wooden roof confronted him, large cobwebs hanging in disturbingly thick white threads.
Not stone.
Bilbo stared. Blinked his eyes and stared harder.
He knew this roof. It was the room in Dale he had slept in-
Bilbo sat up, staring as he caught sight of the blanket on his lap. It was a worn cloak - not enough of a blanket for the tall folk but more than adequate for a Hobbit-
He was in Dale. He recognized the room. And the sounds of Men and Elves readying for battle beyond the walls.
Did - did that mean it had all been a dream? Bilbo covered his mouth with one hand. It had felt real.
He let out a burst of nervous laughter, startlingly loud in the silent room.
A hard thud rang out on his door, rattling the rotting wood in its frame. "Oi! Keep it down in there!"
Alfrid. Bilbo cast a look of dislike at the door. One thing was certain. He had to make his way back to the Mountain and rejoin the Company.
Bilbo waited until the hours before dawn, when the sounds of the Elves and Men's preparations for war had settled into uneasy rest. He edged open the rotting shutters of the room's sole window and pulled himself up onto the ledge. Balancing on the splintering wood, he pulled the shutters closed behind him and hopped down.
He landed in a crouch, waiting for a long moment to see if anyone had noticed his escape. There was silence; no outcry or any other indication that anyone had seen the shutters open.
Bilbo quickly slipped away from the abandoned house, keeping to the shadows. He had learnt to move quietly over the course of the quest and that knowledge served him well now. It didn't take much to keep out of sight; the former inhabitants of Lake-town were more concerned with tending fires and gathering resources to secure shelter for the night. No one was concerned by the odd soft shuffling noise or too-large footprints left in the snow.
The Elves were more alert but on watch for enemies outside the city, not anyone attempting to leave. It took some time but Bilbo managed to find a part of the crumbling wall that was far enough from the patrolling guards.
The fact that he had used the same escape route in his dream was simply coincidence. He had taken note of the small gap in the wall as he made his way into the ruined city. No one had spotted him when he had slipped into Dale, not thinking such a small space was enough of a gap for the enemy to fit through.
It was a bit tight even for Bilbo but he had lost his comfortable Hobbit padding on their journey and was able to wiggle through.
Once he was far enough away from the walls that any noise would be disregarded, Bilbo set out for the Lonely Mountain.
Braziers lit the top of the gate, a beacon in the night. Bilbo didn't have as good a night vision as the dwarves, but Hobbits could see through the night better than Men. It wasn't hard for Bilbo to make his way across the frozen stone and earth, bladed frost crunching beneath his feet.
A bare expanse of ground that had become a battlefield in his dream. Bilbo held back a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. It wouldn't come to war if he could prevent it.
He reached the bottom of the gate without incident. Bilbo leapt from one block of overturned stone to another, using both hands and feet to prevent slipping into the icy water.
Bilbo had no intention entering water ever again, thank you very much.
Feet in danger of sticking to the icy stone, Bilbo leapt up, grasping the rope hanging down from the wall. Bracing himself against stone, Bilbo pulled himself up the rope, climbing the hastily-blocked gate.
It didn't take long - a few minutes - and he was standing on the wall above the gate, the braziers a welcome warmth in the night. Bilbo reached out to untie the rope but hesitated, the image of Thorin's furious face flashing through his mind. It had just been a dream (if a horribly realistic one) but it was still enough to stop Bilbo's hand.
With an uneasy look at the fall below, Bilbo pulled the rope back up, winding it in a neat coil which he tucked out of sight. The situation was perilous enough.
There was no need to tempt fate.
He had made his move. Taken the Arkenstone out of Thorin's reach and made a bid for peace. The rest would be up to Thorin.
He ignored the images of disaster from his dream. Thorin's angry response shouted from the wall.
His attempt to throw Bilbo over.
Bilbo squared his shoulders, rolling his neck. That wouldn't happen. He wasn't afraid of Thorin. He’d always had an overactive imagination and it had only grown worse now he knew the perils of the world. Sick though he was, Thorin wouldn't hurt him.
For a moment Bilbo thought Thorin would listen to reason, would take the way out Bilbo had provided. Use Bilbo's share of the treasure to buy peace.
He should have known better.
"It's a trick!" Thorin's voice was almost manic. Unhinged.
Horribly familiar.
Bilbo stepped forward, steeling himself. "It's no trick. The stone is real. I gave it to them."
Thorin turned towards him, expression frozen. "You?" It was said almost calmly.
Bilbo took it as a good sign. He held Thorin's gaze, willing him to pull free from the dragon sickness. "I took it as my fourteenth share."
"You would steal from me?" Thorin's voice was quiet. Dangerous.
"Steal from you? No." Bilbo hastened to head Thorin off." His mouth twitched nervously, an aborted smile. "I may be a burglar but I like to think I am an honest one." Bilbo let out a nervous laugh, stretching up on his toes. Trying to ignore the frantic, gibbering voice in his mind. This has happened before!
Thorin took a step forward, a look of almost amused disbelief on his face.
It was not humour, though.
"I'm willing to let it stand against my claim." Bilbo added, somewhat desperately.
"Against your claim?" Thorin sounded almost amused. And just as suddenly the amusement vanished.
It had never been humour.
"Your claim." Thorin's words were filled with contempt. He stepped forward, face twisting. "You have no claim over me, you miserable rat!" He threw aside his bow, the weapon clattering loudly on cold stone, and stalked forward.
It wasn't meant to happen like this. Bilbo took a step back and then forced himself to step forward again, refusing to retreat. This was Thorin, not a threat. "I was going to give it to you. Many times I wanted to, but..."
Smaug's voice slithered through his mind. I am almost tempted to let you take it, if only to see Oakenshield suffer, watch it destroy him, watch it corrupt his heart and drive him mad.”
"But what, thief?" It was gritted out, Thorin's deep voice as hard and unyielding as the stone beneath their feet. But Thorin was still listening to him. Surely that was a sign he could still hear reason.
Bilbo held his gaze, determined to get through to him, once and for all. "You are changed, Thorin." His voice grew in strength as he finally gave voice to the words he had been thinking for days. "The dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word."
Thorin's gaze flickered.
Encouraged, Bilbo seized the moment and pressed on, gaze flicking towards the rest of the Company. Suddenly filled with the wrongness that had overtaken Thorin since setting foot inside the mountain. The dwarf he knew- "Would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!"
Thorin drew in a breath, eyes glinting with unshed tears.
Bilbo held his breath.
"Do not speak to me of loyalty."
Bilbo's heart sank. He had failed.
But Thorin hadn't acted against him like he had in Bilbo's dream. Maybe-
"Throw him from the rampart!"
Bilbo's head shot up, body freezing in icy shock. No. No, no, no-
The Company stood stunned. Fili turned his head away, as if refusing to even hear his uncle’s words.
Thorin turned, shoulders tensing in anger as he caught sight of Fili. He stalked towards him, grabbing Fili's shoulders and pulling him forwards. "Did you not hear me?!" His voice was an enraged lash.
But Fili pulled free, jerking his arm away in rejection.
Bilbo felt hope leap in his chest. The Company would not obey Thorin. Perhaps together they could convince him-
Thorin span, eyes fixed on Bilbo with furious intent. "I will do it myself. Curse you!" Furious tears in his eyes, Thorin lunged forward, gripping Bilbo's shoulders in an enraged grasp. He pulled Bilbo forward, dragging him toward the wall.
Bilbo struggled, leaning back, legs straining as he tried to pull free. Thorin wouldn't-
But he was.
"No!" It was Kili.
They were spinning, the world twisting and violent. A grasp on his coat from behind pulled them to a halt.
He was being tugged back and forth. Thorin dragging him to the wall, Fili trying to pull him back. Kili trying to pull Thorin away.
But Thorin was a powerful dwarf. Enraged, he had no equal.
"Curse the wizard who forced you upon us!" Thorin wrenched them free from Fili and Kili's grasp.
Bilbo was jerked forward. Slung up against the wall of the gate, Thorin holding him down and starting to push him over the edge-
Thorin was going to kill him.
"If you don't like my burglar." The words echoed, pulsating with a power that echoed against the mountain. Bilbo could feel it in the stones under his back.
Thorin froze, head lifting, Bilbo still pinned beneath his hands.
"Then please don't damage him." Gandalf continued. "Return him to me."
Bilbo panted, looking up at Thorin's face, hands held defensively in front of his chest. This had happened before. His dream. It was the same. Almost exactly the same.
Gandalf was talking but Bilbo didn't hear his words. He was staring at Thorin.
Thorin who was going to die.
Thorin blinked, grip suddenly loosening.
Bilbo seized his chance and rolled off the wall into Fili's desperate hands, feeling stunned.
Bofur rushed forward, guiding him out of the way as Thorin shouted down at Gandalf.
"Never again shall I have dealings with wizards!"
The anger in his voice made Bilbo shudder.
"Go." Bofur pushed him forward, towards the rope tied to the gate.
Thorin's voice turned vicious. "Or shire rats!"
With shaking hands, Bilbo flung the rope over the wall and hastily followed it over the side. His grip was shaky but he held tight, the phrase you know how this ends, you know how this ends pounding with then beat of his heart.
"Are we resolved?” Bard called out, voice tense. “The Arkenstone for what we were promised?"
Bilbo landed on stone, heart beat loud in his ears and shaking, barely able to follow Bard's words. There was still a chance. A possibility that Thorin-
"-your answer." Bard continued, voice strained. "Will you have peace? Or war?"
The silence stretched. And was broken by a loud caw.
A large black bird flew overhead to land on the wall at Thorin's side.
A raven.
Bearing a message, as you well know. The mental voice was acerbic, as sharp as the one he had used in the past when attempting to reason with the Company.
On cue there was a loud rumble that could be felt through the earth.
Thorin's voice carried over the silent armies at the gate. "I will have war."
A dwarven army appeared over the hill. Dain's army.
Bilbo stumbled as he made his way away from the gate. It was all the same. How had he ever thought it could be different?
He made his way to Gandalf who shot him a concerned look and steadied him with one large hand before urging him forward.
Bilbo followed, stumbling along under Gandalf's hand. It had happened exactly as it had in his dream.
He looked up at Gandalf stopped, following his gaze to the dwarven lord who rode his war boar confidently down the side of the rocky slope.
"Dain." He could hear the desperation in his voice.
Gandalf shot him a sharp glance. "Yes. Dain Ironfoot. Thorin's cousin."
There would be war. It was undeniable now, Bilbo knew. He could only hope the rest of his dream was false.
But a sinking sense of dread was filling his chest. Even with what he knew, could he change what was to happen?
Bilbo glanced back at the mountain. He would have to.
When the were-worm burst out of the earth, Bilbo's shoulders slumped. Sting came to rest hopelessly on his shoulder as his gesture of shock turned to resigned despair. How could he turn the tide of battle when they were so outnumbered?
Horns sounded. Armies on the move and about to converge.
"Bilbo! To the city!" Gandalf urged him to a run. "This way!"
Bilbo followed, knowing he was no use on the battlefield. He would have to do what he could for Dale.
The sound of a giant horn rang out. Bilbo looked up, knowledge kindling in his heart. "Thorin."
He ran to the rampart, hands braced on the edge. The gate had opened, the Company running out to join the battle. "The dwarves. They're rallying!"
Gandalf appeared next to him. "They're rallying to their king." His voice was full of satisfaction.
Thorin. Only Thorin in his right mind could command such loyalty, such a renewal of strength.
Bilbo could feel it in his own heart. A sudden leap of hope.
The battle could be turned. Thorin could break free of the gold sickness.
With his strength of will, he could survive.
Bilbo gripped the wall, watching as the dwarves surged forward to attack with renewed vigour.
They were outnumbered but with the fierceness of their fighting they were forcing the orcs back. Bilbo could see Thorin meeting Dain in pocket clear of the fighting.
Gandalf leaned over the wall, eyes narrowing as he surveyed the battlefield.
There was movement below. Large rams cutting through the orcs and moving up to the steep hill to Ravenhill. Thorin.
"Gandalf!"
Bilbo turned to see the two elves arrive on horseback. Bilbo recognised them. Prince Legolas, Thranduil's son. And Tauriel, Kili's beau.
"Legolas Greenleaf." Gandalf expression was one of pleased surprise.
"We have come from Gundabad." Legolas was grim, tight lipped. "Bolg is leading another army from the north."
A look of alarm crossed Gandalf's face. He spun around, running back to rampart. "This is what Azog intended. Azog invades with an army to engage us and Bolg sweeps in from the north."
“Where is the north?" Bilbo had to ask to be sure.
Gandalf shot him a look. "Ravenhill."
"Ravenhill." Bilbo echoed in horror. "Thorin is up there." And Fili and Kili. They were all up there.
Thranduil would not risk himself for Thorin. That had never changed.
Bilbo stepped forward, grim resolve straightening his shoulders. "I'll go." He had to go.
Gandalf turned. "Don't be ridiculous. You'll never make it."
Bilbo smiled mirthlessly. "Why not?" He had before after all.
"Because they will see you and kill you." Gandalf said, exasperated, as he drew closer.
"No they won't." Bilbo shook his head, a small smile on his face. "They won't see me."
"It's out of the question." Gandalf shook his head. He drew himself up. "I won't allow it."
"I'm not asking you to allow it, Gandalf." The words he had spoken before fell easily from his lips. He would not be turned aside.
Bilbo left before Gandalf could stop him. He reached for the ring and pulled it on. And then he ran through the city, dodging ghostly swords.
Bilbo stumbled up to the top of the rise. Shadowy shapes stood before him, not as tall as orcs or men. Dwarves.
Bilbo pulled off the ring, the world suddenly jolting into sharp focus.
"Bilbo!" Thorin took a step towards him, face alight with surprise and joy.
But Bilbo didn't have time to dwell on how pleased Thorin looked to see him. "You have to get out of here now. Azog has another army attacking from the north. Ravenhill will be completely surrounded.” He licked his dry lips. “With no way out.”
He scanned the ruins around them. Only Dwalin and Thorin were here, Bilbo suddenly realised with a cold chill. Kili and Fili-
"We are so close." Dwalin was straining toward the tower ahead of them, like a dog on the leash. "That orc scum is in the tower. I say we push on."
"No." Thorin's gaze fell on the tower. "That's what he wants."
If there was any indication to show Thorin was free of the dragon sickness, that proved it. A clear eyed assessment of the situation.
Bilbo dragged in a breath, nearly choking on it in his relief, trying to regain his breath. Leaving Thorin and Dwalin to argue amongst themselves. Trying to push away the sense that this had already happened and anything he did was a foregone conclusion.
"He wants to draw us in," Thorin continued. "This is a trap."
It was. Bilbo heart seized as he recalled his dream. Fili-
"Find Kili and Fili. Call them back." Thorin was already issuing the order.
Dwalin stepped away from the edge, eyes still flicking back to the tower. "Are you sure about this?"
"Do it." Thorin was walking over to Bilbo. "We will live to fight another day."
Another day, Bilbo thought with an edge of hysteria. He had heard those words before.
He had heard this argument before.
A low reverberating sound echoed out over the ice. A drum.
Thorin and Dwalin had both turned towards the source and as they watched lights appeared at the top of the tower.
Not just lights. Azog. The white orc was dragging someone.
Fili.
“No.” Bilbo felt like he was choking, that there was not enough air to breathe.
The white orc stopped at the edge of the overlook and held out his arm, holding Fili over the long fall below.
No. No, this was not happening again. Bilbo shook his head, lips moving silently as he stared at Fili helpless in the white orc's grip.
"Go!" Fili's desperate voice rang out, one last act of sacrifice. "Run!"
Azog stabbed Fili with his blade. And opened his hand.
Bilbo's eyes slammed shut, but the image was already burned into his mind. Fili. Fili was gone.
His eyes opened. He was vaguely aware that Thorin had left and Dwalin was following.
Bilbo stumbled back, drawing Sting. Fili. Fili was dead. He could have prevented this. He could have-
Thorin had already left. And Dwalin, Dwalin was already battling orcs.
Bolg had arrived.
Bilbo ran down the steps to reach Dwalin where he was fighting the orcs.
There was a pile of stones nearby. (The same he had found last time) Bilbo scooped them up and started throwing, knocking down orcs before they could reach Dwalin to overpower him.
The moves were automatic: he had already done this before, after all.
When Bolg ran towards him and caught him with a blow it was almost a relief.
He was lying on something cold and hard. Bilbo cracked his eyes open, his head splitting with the move.
The sky met his gaze. Pale with cloud.
The eagles are coming.
Bilbo's eyes shot open. Thorin!
Bilbo scrambled to his feet, stumbling as he hurried to the edge of the overlook.
A small figure stood on the ice below, staring out at the battlefield below. Thorin.
For a moment Bilbo thought his dream had been just that. That Thorin would turn around and walk away unharmed.
And then he fell.
Bilbo ran.
Stone and ice were equally as cold under his feet, his surroundings a blur. Exhaustion fled in the face of cold panic.
He slowed only as he reached Thorin's fallen form. He lay in the same spot Bilbo had seen him die.
Bilbo flung himself down at Thorin's side, hands hovering uselessly over his wound.
"Bilbo." Thorin's hand rose to grip weakly at his arm.
"Don't move." Bilbo gingerly peeled back the cloth covering his wound, blanching at the mess of blood and exposed flesh. "Don't move. Lie still." He lightly touched the wound, recoiled at the wet flow of blood and then gently covered the wound again. "Shush."
"I'm glad you're here." Thorin ignored him just as he always did. His eyes fixed on Bilbo's face, alight and direct. "I wish to part from you in friendship."
"No." Bilbo shook his head. "You're not going anywhere." He rested a hand on Thorin's shoulder, holding his gaze. "You're going to live Thorin." He had to live. Bilbo looked back at the wound. Surely it wasn't that bad?
But he hadn't tended wounds before. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what to do.
"I would take back," Thorin gasped, hand tightening on Bilbo's arm, "my words and deeds at the gate." He drew in a breath. "You did what only a true friend would do." He took a breath. "Forgive me."
Bilbo shook his head.
"I was too blind to see it." Pain and weariness stained Thorin's words but he kept his gaze on Bilbo. "I am so sorry that I have led you into such peril." He coughed wetly, turning aside.
"No," Bilbo leaned forward, lightly patting Thorin's shoulder to be sure of his attention. "I am glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin. Each and every one of them."
Thorin turned to face him, eyes widened in surprised warmth.
Bilbo tightened his grip on Thorin's coat. "It is far more than any Baggins deserves." He, who should have kept them safe.
Thorin smiled, the pain falling from his face. "Farewell, Master Burglar."
Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut, pained to hear it again-
A soft smile softened Thorin's face. "Go back to your books. And your armchair. Plant your trees." His half-lidded eyes were fond. "Watch them grow."
Bilbo kept his eyes fixed on Thorin's face, unable to look away. He couldn't turn away with Thorin looking at him like that.
Thorin's gaze turned inward. "If more people valued home above gold," his eyes focused on Bilbo's face, "this world would be a merrier place." His breath caught and he struggled to breathe.
Bilbo's throat tightened. "No. No. No." He found himself repeating the word over and over as if the denial alone could stave off Thorin's death. He jumped at his wet cough. "Th-Thorin, don't you dare-"
But Thorin's gaze had softened, the last breath escaping his lips in a soft sigh.
"Thorin." It was a broken whisper.
Bilbo sank to his side, arm coming around Thorin's head, one hand pressing to his still chest. "Thorin. Thorin hold on. Hold on please. The eagles- the eagles are here. Thorin? The eagles-" His voice broke and tears trailed from his eyes. Bilbo lifted a hand to shift them but it was no use.
The eagles had arrived and Thorin was gone.
Bilbo sat numbly on the icy rock, staring down at his bloody hands. Thorin had died. Again.
Everything had happened just as it had in his dream.
Fili. Kili.
Thorin.
His friends were dead just as he had dreamed they would.
A warm touch teased the edge of his lips and Bilbo reached up to touch his face.
His hand came away pale red. Not just tears but blood. His head throbbed dully but Bilbo was transfixed.
His head wound. If he hadn't lain fallen so long could he have prevented this? If he hadn't taken the Arkenstone?
Bilbo sat amidst stone and snow, the weight of guilt holding him still and silent.
When Bilbo next woke, it was to a familiar cobwebbed roof.
~x~X~x~
On to Chapter Two
~x~X~x~
