Day 4- Oakenshield: Prince or Thief?
Today's fic was for 'New Plot Bunny' and I'm actually super excited about this one!
Oakenshield: Prince or Thief?
Rating: T
Warning(s): N/A
Ship: Bagginshield
Words: 2229
Summary: Robin Hood AU; Everyone knows the story: After King Thrain took his best warriors, including Crown Prince Thorin, only to be slain by the orc forces in Khazad-dum, his advisor, Lord Smaug, was placed in charge and all the lands of Erebor suffered. Fortunately, rising past the oppressive tyranny was the one and only Oakenshield, to rob from the rich and give to the poor. In reality though…that’s not quite accurate. For one thing, there are actually two beings claiming to be ‘Oakenshield’ with vastly different objectives, and then there’s the small problem of them not being aware of the other until Bilbo comes across a rather interesting Company of dwarves in Mirkwood.
Bilbo plopped himself on a fallen log somewhere on the outskirts of Mirkwood Forest. His hands crossed over his knees, and his eyes glued to the rolling hills of the Shire just to the west while his mind wandered far away. How could everything go so wrong in such a short amount of time? He was almost too exhausted to cry. No, that fled with his anger as the Sheriffs were physically pulling Bilbo away from his home, and his rotten, evil cousin-in-law.
Gandalf plopped down beside him, for once having nothing to say as he pulled out both their pipes. He began to bang them against each other, trying to share the last scrap of pipeweed between the two before lighting the ends and handing Bilbo his own. Bilbo didn’t smoke right away. He was too wrung out for even that pleasure.
“Why did this happen, Gandalf?” He asked, his voice rough and thick.
The old wizard took a deep inhale of smoke before blowing it out into a simple ring. The fact that he didn’t transform it into fantastic shapes said more than enough about the state of things. Bilbo finally allowed himself a smoke of his own, matching the ring with one of his own.
“The King and his son never returned from war.” Gandalf stated simply enough.
Bilbo snorted. “The former dying at the latter’s hand is how I heard it the two days I was invited to stay in their prison.”
Gandalf gave him a soft, apologetic look. “I would have gotten there sooner had I known…”
Bilbo waved him off. It certainly wasn’t Gandalf’s fault that he had fled the Shire the moment after his mother’s funeral to wander the world. It also wasn’t his fault he returned to find his properties claimed by Otho and his snake of a wife, Lobelia. No, Gandalf wasn’t to blame for the state of affairs Bilbo returned home to. Bilbo did blame King Thrain though, for leaving for a war Erebor and its surrounding provinces didn’t want. He blamed Prince Thorin, whether he killed his father or not, for not being able to come home and take care of his people. Mostly, he found himself blaming Lord Smaug. Who took over Erebor in the absence of its monarchy. Who seemed to believe taxes and rewarding the rich was more important than seeing to the basic needs of every citizen. Who stripped a land of justice and moral obligations, turning Bilbo into a criminal overnight just because he had the gall to speak the truth.
“Where do we go from here?” Bilbo asked softly.
“Rivendell is and always has been a sanctuary to those in need, and Lord Elrond would welcome you once more into his halls. Regardless of your…current status.”
Bilbo gave him a fond, but exasperated look. “You seem to forget, my friend, that any status of mine you now share. You can’t break someone out of jail and expect not to be labeled an outlaw as well.”
“Oh, I doubt the Shire Sheriffs were all that interested in keeping you there for the long term. Hobbits I find are remarkably resilient beings, and I think the western reaches of our dear kingdom won’t see the aftereffects of Smaug’s rule until later down the road. The capital, however…they spoke of Smaug employing orcs to be his tax collectors and law enforcement. Dale, Esgaroth, and Erebor will all suffer much greater and much quicker.”
Bilbo felt shivers racing down his spine at the thought of those bloodthirsty beasts being anywhere near civilized society. Gandalf was right. Rivendell was outside the reaches of Erebor, and the elves’ magic kept it protected. He should get out while he still could. He tampered out the last bit of ashes collected at the bottom of his pipe as he stood and gave a large stretch. The sun was just beginning to set, drawing his eyes back to the rolling green hills of his home. It’s not like he had anybody to worry after him, not really anyways. He had neighbors, tenants, cousins he would speak to every once in a while. Nobody would really miss him if he disappeared for good. Did that mean that they deserved such a fate as Otho and Lobelia, carrying out the orders for Lord Smaug?
“We can’t go to Rivendell.” He declared. “I don’t know what I can do besides probably get myself killed, but we can’t leave things like this, Gandalf. It’s wrong.”
The old wizard chuckled before slowly pulling himself up as well. He placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulders, his eyes twinkling brightly.
“I hope that you never stop ceasing to amaze me. Your courage may be exactly what the kingdom needs reminded of right now.”
Bilbo snorted. “They need a hero. But sure. A couple of outlaws like ourselves, I’m sure we can work up the muscle for a little poetic justice. After all, a hobbit and a wizard? We’ll just have Smaug quaking in his boots.”
“Let the powers to be hear the name Bilbo Baggins and feel true fear!” Gandalf teased him.
Bilbo laughed as he turned and started to trudge his way into the forest. After all, he was granted the title of Elf-Friend. Surely Thranduil would have no objections to him staying for just a little while. Until he could restock on supplies and have a solid idea of where he was going.
“You know I was thinking about that.” Bilbo mentioned. “What if I used an alias? Something the people could chant and might not give away my…hobbitness quite so much.”
“What did you have in mind?” Gandalf asked.
“Well, the symbol of my house is an acorn. I was thinking maybe ‘Oak Something’. Oak Branch? Oak Protector?”
“Oak Shield?” Gandalf offered.
Bilbo curled his lip and scrunched his nose. “Maybe.”
Gandalf laughed. “Bilbo, my boy, I have found when it comes to epithets, you don’t choose them as much as they choose you.”
***
(Eight months later)
Thorin hacked at the undergrowth of the forest aimlessly listening as Nori continued to rattle on about what he heard at the local tavern. It was all the same in his mind. Smaug bleeding Dale and Esgaroth dry. Azog letting his orcs slay any who try to oppose them. Thieves and outlaws becoming more commonplace every day. It was a sting to Thorin’s pride, but given the circumstances, there wasn’t much he could do about it. At least at the moment.
“So then they got off on the subject of ‘Oakenshield’s Company’ and get this! The lot of them have it in their heads that we rob from the rich to give to the poor now. As if we’re not struggling ourselves.”
The rest of the Company burst into laughter.
“Don’t you know lads, it doesn’t take much coin to lead a resistance.” Gloin guffawed.
“Aye! Our swords never chip, and our hammers never splinter.” Dwalin roared.
Thorin couldn’t help smirking at how much enjoyment the Company was getting out of this particular rumor. It never fails that after performing a job, their name gains traction amongst the villages. Using the epithet that Thorin had earned during the War in Khazad-dum, ‘Oakenshield’s Company’ were the only ones left to stand against Smaug’s tyranny. Except on days like today. As far as Thorin was concerned, false accounts kept them safe.
“So we find another orc pack to stop, and everyone’s singing our praises again.” Fili stated.
“Aye! None of this ‘not killing stuff’ either.” Kili tacked on referring to another one of the odd rumors circling about their group.
Thorin smiled at the beaming duo more than grateful he was able to get them out of the castle in time. Dis had known Smaug would see them dead before letting them be a potential threat to his claim to the throne. Dis staying behind to feed him information was still a decision that haunted his every waking moment. Luckily, she seems to be handling herself well, so far.
They were almost back to their makeshift camp for the night when something out of the ordinary began to register with Thorin. Something he hadn’t realized earlier thanks to the Company’s racket. The forest was quiet. Thorin held up his fist, his other hand clinging to Orcist tightly. Everyone stopped, immediately becoming defensive. The oppressive silence weighing heavier now.
“What do you think it is, Thorin?” Balin whispered.
“I don’t know.” He responded. “Feels like an ambush though.”
An arrow whizzed by his ear, landing a solid ‘thunk’ into the tree behind him. Thorin’s eyes darted the direction it came from, catching a shape gliding along the branches. His lip pulled back in a sneer. Elves. Another came from a different direction, and Thorin rolled out of the way of the perceived attack. Only it wasn’t that at all. He spun around at the cries from his Company as a large rope net triggered by the two arrows hoisted them three feet into the air. The tangle of limbs made it nearly impossible for anyone to grab a weapon to spring themselves free. Seeing the tie that held them aloft, Thorin moved to cut them down only to stop at a knife against his throat.
“Decent reflexes, but not enough, Love. Now be a good dwarf and drop your weapon.”
Every muscle in his body tensed at the idea of a surrender, but knowing there was at least one more out there, Thorin let Orcist fall to the ground. The Company watched the exchange in bafflement, and Thorin didn’t quite understand why until the figure moved in front of him. He blinked in surprise, but his attacker remained the same. It wasn’t an elf at all, but a hobbit!
The hobbit smirked as he produced a length of rope already tied into a set of cuffs. He raised an eyebrow, indicating for Thorin to put it on himself. He felt his jaw grind down at the sting to his pride, but could see little else he could do at the moment. He allowed the hobbit to bind his wrists, and due to the knife still at his throat, let the burglar back him all the way up to the nearest tree. The hobbit threw the end of the line up over the branch. Thorin felt it tighten, pulling his wrists over his head, and when he looked up, he saw a blonde elf securing it. Well, at least his instincts proved true about his accomplice. Once the hobbit was certain of Thorin’s helplessness, did he lower his blade.
“Well you are proving to be a very accommodating captive. Do you do this often?”
“You’d be the first who dare attempt it.” Thorin responded.
“Ah.” The hobbit grinned before leaning in to whisper in Thorin’s ear. “I’ll be sure to take it nice and slow then.”
An uncomfortable heat settled on Thorin’s cheeks before traveling south to pool in his stomach. He wasn’t quite sure of the hobbit’s intentions, until he pulled back holding Thorin’s coin purse. The dwarf glared at him as he shook it next to his ear before placing it in a loop on his belt. The hobbit tipped his green hat towards him.
“A pleasure doing business.”
There was a cry from one of the dwarves, and Thorin craned his neck over the hobbit to see there were now two elves, quickly and efficiently relieving his Company of their valuables. The red headed elf had reached towards Ori’s beads though, and before Thorin could make his threats, the hobbit spoke up.
“Not the beads, my friends! After all, we have no need to dishonor these fine dwarves after all their help today.”
“As you say, Oakenshield.” She replied, bowing her head.
Thorin’s jaw dropped, not sure what surprised him the most. The fact that they were actually going to leave them their beads. The fact that this hobbit was their leader. Or the fact that this was the one who's been using his name! The off-the-wall rumors. It was because of this thief.
They finished robbing them, and once the hobbit was satisfied, he turned back to Thorin with a bow.
“If it’s any consolation to you, this will be going to five families with young ones in Dale. Once again, thank you for your cooperation. Please enjoy the rest of your stroll through Mirkwood.”
The hobbit latched onto the blonde elf who joined the red haired one in the trees, and just like that they were gone. Thorin struggled against the bonds holding his wrists when a knife, the very one used to threaten him, went slicing through the air, cutting the rope holding him against the tree. He brought his hands down so he could rub his wrists and ponder the most unorthodox bandits he’s ever met.
“Well that could have been worse.” Bofur exclaimed cheerfully, breaching the silence.
A last arrow sliced through the air to hit the rope holding them up as they collapsed in a pile of groans and complaints. Despite everything that happened, Thorin found a smirk pulling at his lips. No matter how angry he wanted to be, he was actually rather impressed by it all. Rob from the rich to give to the poor. Thorin found himself wanting another meeting with this impersonator, and this time…he’d be ready for him.
