Discover Top Posts Tagged with #thorin_oakenshield

Inevitable Chapter 10

So remember that time when I said that Chapter 10 will be the last chapter? Well, that was a massive gross overestimation in my ability to cram all the necessary details in as little words as possible. Clearly, I'm not to be trusted with writing short chapters and Chapter 10 ended up so massive that I'm splitting it into 2 parts. So, here's Part 1. Part 2 will be posted as Chapter 11...whenever I write it. Heh.

[This is not posted on AO3, not until I get my revision back, so enjoy the unedited version. Many many thanks for your patience and special thanks to cicerothewriter and hoshiyaquilla for their help!]

Part. XIV The Captors

The first thing that Bilbo realized upon waking up, aside from the overwhelming feeling like death warmed over, was the pungent smell of damp mildew around him and the echoing sound of angry shouting.

“We should not have taken the Dwarf! That was not part of the plan!”

“Sod the plan! The plan already went to complete and utter shit when you lot stupidly decided to push it ahead of schedule!”

“If you did your job properly and got the Hafling alone like you were supposed to do, we wouldn’t have had to take the Dwarf to begin with!”

“Oy! You tried peeling that stubborn pissant away from the Hafling! Besides, we were attacked!”

“He was half your size, you arse-faced idiot! Now, we’re all in this bloody mess no thanks to you.”

“Well, what are we going to do now? We can’t just keep him! I say we kill him and be done with it.”

“Kill him? Are you mad? I did not sign up to murder anyone!”

Bilbo pressed his lips together to muffle an involuntary groan as the noise fed into his pounding headache, threatening to overwhelm his senses in a red haze of agony. The bed of sharp, jagged stones that he was laying on did not help alleviate the ache in his body either. Reflexively, he shifted to get himself into a more comfortable position but his bound arms caught him by surprise. With a pained grunt, Bilbo flopped ungracefully back to the ground and the pebbles around him scattered loudly across the stone floor. The conversation in the room abruptly died.

“Would you look at that? The Halfling is finally awake! Quick, someone get our esteemed leader.”

What is going on and where am I? Bilbo thought groggily at the sound of retreating footsteps. Panicked, he struggled to regain his senses and he snapped his eyes opened, only to immediately regret his decision when the bright daylight assaulted his vision. A sharp spike of pain ripped through his head, the agony threatening to send him reeling back into unconsciousness.

Alright, that was a stupid idea. Let’s not try that again. Bilbo closed his eyes with a hiss and he concentrated on taking deep, steady breaths, battling to stay awake. He did not even notice the new arrival until the stranger stood less than a foot away from his curled form.

“Mister Baggins! My apologies for the rough treatment,” a familiar voice – possibly the leader’s if Bilbo were to hazard a guess – called out. He sounded strangely muffled as if he was speaking underwater. “It is unfortunate that we are in this current predicament, but please know that I have nothing personal against you at all.”

In a last ditch attempt at defiance, Bilbo mustered the last of his dwindling energy to squint up at his assailant.

Haldan smiled back at him with cold, hard eyes. “This is just business and you, Mister Baggins, are worth a lot of money. I hope you understand.”

Bilbo’s vision faded to black before he could hear the rest of what Haldan had to say.

=====

The room was immediately in an uproar at Dáin’s grim announcement.

“A ransom? Who would do such a vile thing?!”

“Why would they take Bilbo and Ori? They have the gentlest temperament out of all of us!”

“Maybe because they are so polite and pleasant that the kidnappers thought that they make soft, easy targets.”

“As if any member of Thorin Oakenshield’s Company would be soft after all that we had to face!”

“Master Dori? Master Dori?” Balin’s alarm could be heard above the agitated cries of the room. Bombur and Bifur, who were milling nearby, turned towards the rapidly paling Dwarf in question and together with Balin, they gently guided him back into his seat. “Deep breaths Master Dori,” Balin coaxed, “Keep taking deep breaths.”

On the other side of the room, Nori desperately pushed his way through the throng of Dwarves to get to Dáin and Thorin. “Let me through,” he snarled as the others skirted away from his war path. This must be some kind of a sick, twisted joke, Nori balled up his fists and thought angrily. How dare anyone, let alone Dáin of all people, tell such blatant lies to the Company!

It wasn’t until he had finally seen the braid and that damnably familiar purple ribbon – a present from their late mother, Ori treasured that thing – being handed to Thorin that Nori felt his breath knocked from his body; all the conflicting, violent emotions drained away in an instant, leaving him to stand shock still. His treacherous mind was flooded with horrible scenarios of his baby brother, sweet gentle Ori, left beaten and bleeding somewhere in the dark and there was absolutely nothing he could do to make this stop.

“They cut off his braid,” he croaked out hollowly instead. “Why would they cut off his braid?”

The braid and the golden button served as a friendly warning, a dark, sinister part of Nori’s mind, one that was more than familiar with the way kidnappers think, whispered to him. It sent chills running down the Dwarf’s spine. The next package received would be a thousand times worse and a thousand times more bloody.

A steady hand on Nori’s shoulders jostled him out of his dark musing. “Master Nori,” Bofur’s brows were drawn gravely and Nori wondered how the miner could remain so composed when he felt shook to the core, “we will find your little brother and Bilbo.”

The thief swallowed hard and nodded mechanically, but he couldn’t find it in him to be so blindly optimistic. Bofur apparently could sense Nori’s hesitation. At the thief’s lacklustre reaction, he frowned even deeper and tightened his grip on the Dwarf.

Meanwhile, Dwalin had violently stalked forward to get to Thorin without caring that he had knocked his chair over. He stopped when he reached beside Nori and ever so slowly, he unsheathed Grasper and Keeper. “What does that letter say,” he hissed, the quiet murder in his voice so cold that all those who heard him shivered, “who do I have to eviscerate for laying a hand on my intended and on our Hobbit?”

“A group, if what this letter says is the truth,” Thorin looked up from the letter to reply coolly. His blasé attitude would have been convincing if not for the white knuckled grip on the page. “They want 14 000 gold coins, divvied up into five portions to be delivered in three days' time and dropped off in a location that they have specified.”

“Specified?”

“They have drawn a map.”

“Idiots,” Glóin brandished his axe and laughed derisively. “All we have to do is ambush them when they collect the gold!”

The Dwarves answered with a resounding, enthusiastic ‘Aye’ and without further ado, they gleefully followed Glóin and Dwalin’s example and unsheathed their weapons at once.

“Dwarves, let’s not be too hasty! If we can all just put those away,” Dáin yelled over the bloodthirsty crowd. His words went unheeded.

“We will make an example out of them! Show the rest of the world just what happens to those who harm one of our own!”

“Like young Ori had once said, we’ll give them a taste of Dwarfish iron right up their jacksies!”

“Please, if we can all just settle down and carefully rationalize –”

“I have my crossbows! I have been practising on how to double wield them!”

“My Prince, I must really object to this unorthodox use – Please put those away!”

“SILENCE!” Thorin slammed his hand against his desk and roared, and in an instant, blessed silence filled the room once again. “An ambush would not work,” the King began testily. He glared at his sheepish companions, “The kidnappers have already anticipated this. In the letter, they said that they will only release the hostages once they have safely retrieved the gold. If the kidnappers are harmed in the meantime, Bilbo and Ori will automatically forfeit their lives.”

Thorin held up his hand to pre-emptively stop the grumblings. He continued authoritatively, “We will not give them any incentive to harm those two. My decision is final on this.”

He did not break his eye contact from his Dwarves, especially from a growling, homicidal-looking Dwalin who was still clutching Grasper and Keeper, until everyone had nodded sullenly in acquiesce. Satisfied that he had driven his point home, he turned to his skittish cousin and asked gravely, “Where did you find this letter?”

Dáin’s lips were pressed into a tight line, his face adopting a pinched look from what was undoubtedly an extremely unpleasant memory. “It was found on Master Borin, your Highness. It was placed deliberately there to –”

“Placed deliberately?” Nori scoffed in disbelief. He glared coldly at the Iron Hills Lord and spat out, “It is no secret that your advisors do not like Bilbo. And now you’re telling me that you have conveniently found a note on Master Borin. What’s to say that they were not the ones who were responsible for this?”

“Because, Master Nori,” Dáin answered flatly, “the note was pinned to Master Borin’s shirt across his chest while Master Borin himself was found lying unconscious in a pool of his own blood. Whoever wanted our attention made sure they got it.” Pursing his lips, he brusquely turned to Thorin. “Master Frór and I were the ones who found him. I have Frór watching over him at the moment. Master Borin sustained a knife wound to his side and a blow to the back of his head. Thankfully, it was nothing life threatening.”

“Now if you are all ready,” Dáin eyed the shocked crew tersely, “I can take you to him. Hopefully he is awake to answer our questions.”

=====

The second time that Bilbo woke up, he was bombarded by two different sensations; the first and immediate one was an all consuming pain that seemed to be radiating somewhere from the back of his skull. Bilbo suspected that if he had the strength to lift his arms, he would have found a swollen bump there as a telltale sign of his injury. The second thing that Bilbo noticed, once he had pushed away the feeling of pain, was the pervasive chill of damp wooden planks pressing uncomfortably against his cheek. That in itself was highly unusual since the last thing he remembered was strolling beside Ori on his way back to Thorin’s tent –

A wave of disorienting memories came crashing back at him.

Farm. Attack. Kidnapping.

Haldan.

It took every last ounce of effort for Bilbo not to visibly react at the deep seated feeling of betrayal that flared up within him. His friend had orchestrated his kidnapping! How long had Haldan been planning this? Has it always been Haldan’s intention to trick Bilbo into becoming friends so that he would lower his guard around the other advisor? Was Bard in on this scheme as well?

Bilbo clamped down on his anger. The answers could wait. For now, he needed to focus on surveying his immediate surroundings.

Keeping himself loose limbed to feign unconsciousness, Bilbo breathed in deeply, registering the utter stillness of the room and the cloying scent of musk from the stale air around him. The quietness of the space reminded him of Erebor before its resurrection. Bilbo remembered the first time that he explored the derelict fortress; his diminutive form had casted a long shadow over the once gilded walls while his steps echoed hollowly in the abandoned rooms with every new step he took. The utter feeling of loneliness had pressed heavily against Bilbo from all around him, making him feel small and insignificant in the vast, open space. There was something horribly sad to see such splendour reduced to ashes and dust.

Well, Bilbo thought glumly, opening his eyes to his surroundings at last, I much prefer to be over there than here, wherever here is.

Bilbo waited until he was certain that he had regained enough of his senses before wriggling his arms behind him. The tight tug around his numbing wrists was to be expected and logically, Bilbo had to admit that it would be a gross oversight if his captors did not keep him bound, but he could not help but feel slightly disappointed to discover his hands tied. Carefully adjusting his weight, he struggled clumsily into a sitting position, only flopping to his side twice for his trouble. He squinted around in hopes that he could recognize something, anything that could give away where he was.

From what Bilbo could tell, he was in a small, rectangular room completely devoid of furniture and light, save for a weak beam of sunlight that shone through a tiny circular window far above Bilbo’s reach. The dark, weathered wood beneath him looked like it had seen better days. Broken, jagged pieces of the floor planks jutted out randomly across the span of the room with all manners of detritus caught between the cracks and holes of the floorboards. The walls were in an equally sad state of affair. The half-rotting wooden panels that were held in place by rusting, protruding nails looked like they were seconds away from collapsing inwards. Outside, the wind howled and Bilbo shivered at the cold that seeped through.

Wait, shivered?

Bilbo quickly looked down and felt instantly relieved that his green jacket was still on his body, although it was gaping wide open from the lack of buttons. He sighed in resignation. Honestly, how was it that he had such bad luck with keeping his buttons? He had rather liked those too! They were beautifully made and, Bilbo suspected, handcrafted by Thorin himself, which made losing them all the more regretful. At this rate, he might as well just give up on buttons altogether and go around wearing something like his old bathrobe.

The resounding clank of the metal lock sliding open caught Bilbo completely off guard and he reflexively shifted his attention towards the room’s entrance. The door creaked open and in came Haldan, carrying a wooden tray with food. The sheepish smile that he gave to Bilbo was a familiar one, and the Hobbit automatically prepared himself to brush away the stream of apologies that would undoubtedly come pouring out of Haldan. Then, he remembered that he was in this predicament because of that lying backstabber and the anger came roaring back.

“Mister Baggins! I am glad to see that you are awake! I was worried that we were too rough with you. My apologies for that,” Haldan said, pausing briefly to kick the door shut behind him. “I have brought you some soup, some bread and a pot of tea for us to share, although we will have to make do without milk and sugar, I’m afraid. Please enjoy the meal while it is still fresh and warm.”

Bilbo threw the strongest glare that he could muster. “How kind of you to watch over my well being after you’ve kidnapped me,” he uttered with venom.

Haldan rolled his eyes and deposited the tray in front of the Hobbit. Instantly, the air of nervousness around him vanished. “Oh don’t be so dramatic! I told you it wasn’t personal. Besides, I’m hardly going to let you starve. You’re worth more to me alive than dead. Now if you don’t mind, please kindly turn around.” When Bilbo did not budge at all, he sighed, “Unless you want to eat with your hands tied, that’s fine by me as well.”

Bilbo grudgingly turned so that his tied hands were facing Haldan. For a brief second, he entertained the thought of running to safety the moment he was freed.

Clearly anticipating Bilbo’s train of thought, Haldan added in an exasperated manner, “Please do not try to run. Not only do I have a knife that I’m not afraid to use, I have guards posted outside your door and I have your little friend with us as well. I’d hate to hurt him to get you to cooperate.”

Bilbo would have spun around if Haldan’s grip wasn’t on his arm. “Little friend?” he asked, his heart sinking. Please don’t let it be Ori, please don’t let it be Ori.

Haldan hummed and said distractedly, “Yes, the young Dwarf with his head constantly buried in a book. I like him, he’s well-mannered!”

Oh, this was not good.

Bilbo turned to face his captor when the rope bindings were cut off. He absentmindedly rubbed the circulation back into his raw wrists. “Why take Ori? He hasn’t done anything.”

Haldan winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well...my men panicked when the kidnapping was taking too long. I admit, things could have gone much smoother, but we had to push our plans forward than what was initially scheduled so...” The advisor trailed off, still looking very much embarrassed. He lowered himself on a debris-free spot on the floor and he sat crossed legged. “Rest assured, he is safe and sound. Now please sit while I get this tea started.”

Bewildered, Bilbo gingerly sat down as Haldan began pouring two cups of tea from the flowered porcelain pot that he had brought in. He was torn between following his Baggins sensibilities by thanking for the offered tea, because no respectable Hobbit refused a good cup of tea, and his Tookish sensibilities to tell Haldan just where he could stick that tea cup. Instead, he asked, “So you’ve had this elaborate plan to kidnap me for ransom but you had to do a rush job. Why, though?”

“Why what?” Haldan gently placed the pot to the side with a soft clink to look up inquisitively at Bilbo. “Why the kidnapping or why the rush?”

“Both, I suppose.”

Haldan reached for his cup and blew lightly to clear away the rising steam from his drink. “Well, Mister Baggins,” he began, “to answer your second question first, we had to rush the plan when we learned that Gandalf the Grey was arriving. The last thing we want is a Wizard to interfere.” He took a deep drink of his tea before continuing, “As for your first question, the answer requires a bit of time. You don’t mind do you?”

Bilbo rolled his eyes and scoffed. “By all means, let’s hear it. It’s not like I have any places I need to be at the moment.”

“Wonderful!” Haldan beamed and somewhere in the back of Bilbo’s mind, he was reeling at how surrealthis whole situation was. He was having tea and polite conversation with his captor of all people, and if Thorin knew about this, Eru forbid that he does, the Dwarf would probably scowl furiously like he had never scowled before in disapproval.

This has got to be the most bizarre kidnapping in the history of Middle-Earth.

“How much do you know about the Lake-town Master?” Haldan asked. He nudged the plate of food closer to Bilbo. “Come on now, eat up! I promise it isn’t poisoned. See?” As a show of good faith, he pinched off a bit of bread, dipped it in the soup and ate it.

“He was a slimy git who ran away after Bard gave him the gold to rebuild Lake-town.” Bilbo answered bluntly, eyeing the food with open suspicion. Why was Haldan doing this? Was it of some bizarre form of guilty penance? Or maybe, Haldan was bored out of his mind and Bilbo provided some entertainment. Bilbo wasn’t sure which answer that he preferred.

“Well I’m hardly going to disagree with you on that!” Haldan laughed into his tea. “Yes, he was a git and he ran away with a lot of gold although that was certainly not where my problems began. I suppose I should start from the beginning?”

Bilbo nodded slowly and he reached for his soup, finally giving in to his Hobbitish love of food. He took a small bite out of it and noted, with bitterness, that it was potato and leek, his favourite. It was also absolutely delicious.

Damn you, Haldan, he thought viciously, scarfing down a much larger mouthful as he continued to glare poisonously at the man.

“My associates and I used to work for the Master,” Haldan said, completely ignoring the animosity that was directed at him. “I was his accountant. It was the job that I have been striving to get, not because I particularly liked the Master, but I did like the sizeable income that came with the position. The money meant that my family and I could finally crawl from the gutters of poverty. Can you imagine what it is like to go so desperately hungry that you are on the verge of starvation, Mister Baggins?”

For an instant, Bilbo tensed, clutching at his the bowl and his spoon tightly until his hands were shaking. Cold-seated panic unfurled in his head along with the sharp, bitter memories of the Fell Winter. He was but a child at the time, and a rather sheltered one at that, but Bilbo doubt he could ever forget the thick blanket of fear that had smothered the Shire-folk as they watched their food storage dwindle down to nothing. Bilbo remembered the many hushed conversations that his parents had shared, made in secrecy when they thought he was not present. They grew more and more frequent and more and more panicked as the unforgiving winter stretched out, when not even the Baggins’ wealth could save them from hunger, not when there was no food to be found anywhere. He remembered the strict rationing that his mother had carried out, and despite how tough things were at home, Bilbo’s parents were insistent that their son would always have at least a mouthful to eat. It wasn’t until later when his father had fallen ill and Bilbo had seen how equally thin and gaunt his mother had become that he realized just from whom he was taking his food.

Bilbo may not have had to starve, but he understood what it was like all the same.

“I don’t need to imagine,” Bilbo said, his voice deceptively steady as he pushed away his half empty bowl of soup. He swallowed the memories down along with the unpleasant, roiling emotions that came with them.

“I am sorry to hear that, Mister Baggins.” Haldan looked at Bilbo with something akin to pity and Bilbo felt another spike of irritation towards his captor. “However, I trust that you fully understand my determination to avoid sinking to that level again. I happily worked for the Master and the both of us came to a mutual agreement – I would be paid very handsomely for my work and in return, I would turn a blind eye to some of his, ah, less than honest dealings. Together with my associates, we became very rich, very fast.”

That...did not surprise Bilbo. Having met the Master, he could imagine the detestable man to be involved in embezzlement.

“So, let me guess,” Bilbo crossed his arms across his chest and said flatly, “you were finally discovered.”

Haldan tilted his head in agreement but he did not look upset by the accusation. “And the timing could not have been any worse. It was right after Smaug’s attack and the people, well, what’s left of them anyway, were hoping to use the town's fund to rebuild their homes. However, they discovered a significantly less amount of money saved up for the town than what was reported. It seemed that the Master has gotten a bit too greedy and has pinched off more money than he should have. To say that the Master and all those who worked for him were heavily criticized was…a severe understatement.”

Things were starting to piece together for Bilbo and he blurted out, “Is that why the Master was so insistent with pressing Thorin for money before the Battle? To give it back to the people to save his own skin?”

“Partially,” Haldan looked very pleased at Bilbo’s leap of logic, “the townsmen were threatening all of our lives at that point and we, in turn, were threatening to redistribute the Master’s assets to appease the masses. You can imagine that he was under quite the pressure to procure the necessary funds to quell this situation and thought it best to acquire said fund through Thorin. I also had no doubt that he was hoping to pocket some of the newly earned gold for himself.”

“Of course he was.” Bilbo rolled his eyes while absentmindedly reaching for his cup of tea. For a kidnapping, this whole endeavour sure was becoming much more comfortable than he had expected. “He received his gold from King Bard after the negotiation with Thorin. It should be more than enough to get the townsfolk off of his back.”

“Yes, he did, but it was much too late by that time. There was so much anger towards the Master that there wasn’t much that he could do to salvage this situation.” Haldan grimaced in distaste, “Even then, King Bard insisted on giving the Master the gold out of some naive hope that the Master could use it to redeem himself. Once a loyal guard to the Master, forever a loyal guard, it would seem.”

“And where were you and your associates? How did you escape the townsmen’s wrath and land yourself as Bard’s advisor?”

Haldan smiled. “Oh, don’t be mistaken, Mister Baggins, there was no escaping the townsmen, not when they have their torches and pitchforks ready. As far as they were concerned, my associates and I were just as guilty so the best that we could do at the time was to keep our heads down and out of sight.” Haldan pressed two fingers against his mug and frowned when it was too hot for his liking. He continued, “It just so happened that I was the more fortunate one out of the group. I was approached by King Bard himself who was seeking an expert in dealing with finances and he was hoping that I could work for him. Best of all, the King promised to protect me if I accepted.” Haldan tilted his head back and laughed, “It was an offer that was impossible to refuse.”

“But King Bard must have known about your involvement with the Master. No offense, but couldn’t he have picked someone with a reputation for being more trustworthy?” Bilbo pressed on, absorbed with finding the truth. And to think, there was so much hidden beneath Haldan’s nervous, jittery façade. He wondered how many people had equally underestimated the man like he himself had done.

“No offense taken!” Haldan said wryly. “To be honest, I was just as surprised as you were at being approached. I suspect it was because I was the only one who was still alive that had the necessary accounting skills.” He chuckled darkly, “By chance, I was promoted from a disgraced accountant to a hated advisor. Funny how everyone else’s loss ended up to be my gain.”

He sighed in disappointment at the disgusted look that Bilbo threw at him. “And this is where you and I are fundamentally different, Mister Baggins. I am an opportunist who will always put myself in front of everything. You, on the other hand, are bogged down by this need to please everyone.”

He propped his chin up with his fist and he leaned forward, squinting at Bilbo as if he was observing some bizarre creature. “It must be so exhausting having to constantly do good by everybody. I still can’t quite figure out if you are being exceptionally brave or stupid for undertaking such an impossible task.” Haldan eyed Bilbo up and down quickly, and said, his voice suddenly chilly, “At the moment, my opinion is leaning more towards ‘stupid’.”

Bilbo swallowed heavily at Haldan’s sudden change in demeanour. So, this was what Haldan had been hiding all along, this steel core of ruthlessness that, by his own admission, pushed him to place his own well-being above all else. Worse still, Haldan seemed to pride himself in his unwavering conviction to serve his own interests. Bilbo wondered just how far Haldan will go to achieve this. Would he risk burning every single bridge of his past?

Putting on a nonchalant face, the Hobbit said with false bravado, “Why does it matter if I'm being stupid or not? You just need me for the money.” He paused to take a small sip of tea to further disguise how much his discovery had disturbed him. “Speaking of which, you haven’t finished your explanation. Why do you need the money?”

And just like that, Haldan was back to his sunny self. “Oh, pardon me! Where was I?” He crossed his arms and stared at the floor for a few seconds until his line of thought came back. “Ah yes, I became King Bard’s newest advisor and believe it or not, I wanted to do a good job. I had much to gain by retaining my position and I suppose that I wanted to redeem myself, at least a little. However, I quickly realized that my efforts were made into a mockery by just about everyone.”

“I’m not sure if I have mentioned this, Mister Baggins, but I am rather good with numbers and figures.” He shot a challenging look at Bilbo but was immediately pacified when the Hobbit nodded along passively. “From the very beginning, I have discussed with the King how best to spend his money. I have submitted costs projections and endless pages of reports to warn him about overspending but despite my best efforts, my warnings were brushed aside by the King’s other advisors who, I should add, know nothing about finances. You see, it was a personal vendetta that they had against me. They were not happy with my presence and had made it their mission to remove me from my post.”

Haldan’s voice was low and dangerous when he hissed out, “And the King, that stupid, biddable man, followed their advice, despite the fact that he had hired me for my expertise. Time and time again, I tried to speak to him but he wouldn't listen.”

Bilbo wisely refrained from making any comments and took a silent sip of his tea.

“Did you know, Mister Baggins,” Haldan continued and there was no disguising his open bitterness, “that Dale's current funds are absolutely pitiful? When I brought this up in a meeting, they had the audacity to pin the blame on me!” Haldan gestured to himself violently. “You’re the financial advisor, they exclaimed, why haven’t you warned us? How did you let this happen? What do we need you for if you can't even do what you're hired to do?”

“And then, the rumours started to spread – Haldan must be up to his old tricks again! He is embezzling from the King just like he and the previous Master had embezzled from Lake-town! Why was he hired anyway? Clearly, he must be infecting the King with his poison! Quickly, someone have him removed before he could do more damage! Jail is too good for someone like him, he should stoned, no, hanged for his crimes!” Bilbo flinched back as Haldan sounded more and more unhinged. “And that’s when I realized that nothing has changed. With the Master gone, I have become the town’s scapegoat, and it is only a matter of time before I will end up murdered. King Bard’s promise for protection was nothing but useless words offered by a powerless man. I might as well take a page out of the Master's book and save myself!”

There was a moment of uncomfortable, tense silence. Sometime during that rant, Bilbo had leaned away from Haldan, clutching his mug over his chest like he was wielding a shield. As the man took a few deep breaths to reign in his rage, Bilbo slowly forced himself to lower his mug. “Why bring Erebor into this mess? Wouldn’t it have been easier for you to take directly from King Bard?” he asked hesitantly.

Haldan scoffed but Bilbo was relieved to note that his posture had relaxed slightly. “I was originally going to steal from King Bard,” he admitted, “but the pitiful amount that he has left will not be able to sustain me unless I want to start my new life as a pitiful, starving pauper. The only one with any gold around here is King Thorin, so I wasn't given much of a choice to choose from.”

“And kidnapping was your answer?”

“It was a quick, effective way of getting what you want if you have nothing left to lose and I'm not sure if you've noticed, Mister Baggins, but I have nothing left to lose.” Haldan shrugged, reaching for his mug beside him and draining the rest of the liquid in a smooth motion. “By that time, I have gathered my associates and they were also willing to do what it took to get out of here. It was easier to carry out a plan that took more risks with a team assembled, especially when the reward was a great one.”

Bilbo was about to retort when a loud crash resounded from outside of the door followed by the sound of muffled cursing.

“Ah, it seems that your friend is finally awake!” Haldan calmly placed his empty mug back on the wooden tray. He turned towards the door and called out, “Let him in!”

A large blond and furious-looking man with blood streaming down his chin (from his purpling, swollen nose, Bilbo noted in shock) came lumbering in. He was carrying a violently thrashing Ori under one of his arms as if he was lugging around a sack of potatoes.

“Let me go, you great, ugly, troll-shagging, scum-sucking son of a whore! Once I get my hands on you, oh you’re going to be sorry! You’re going to wish that I only left you with a broken nose, you – ”

“Not so polite anymore, this friend of yours,” Haldan idly commented as a string of increasingly creative profanities came pouring out of Ori. “Just leave him here somewhere – gently please!” he insisted when the large man looked like he was getting ready to throw Ori across the room.

Instead, he gave Haldan a foul glare, unceremoniously dumped Ori face-down on the ground, and backed away to stand guard beside the entrance with an annoyed grunt.

“Ori!” Bilbo shouted in distress, immediately clamouring to his friend.

“Bilbo?” Ori quickly lifted his head in Bilbo’s direction. “Bilbo! Are you alright? Are you hurt?” he struggled to roll himself around with renewed determination despite his bound arms and legs.

“I’m fine, I’m…fine,” Bilbo grabbed his friend by the shoulder and helped him sit up while checking for injuries that needed binding. The sight of dried blood caked along the side of Ori’s face made Bilbo worry in particular. Frowning, he gingerly pushed away the Dwarf’s blood soaked fringe to get a clearer view of the injury, careful to avoid brushing against any broken skin. He winced at the nasty gash that was revealed.

“Oh dear, perhaps we have been a bit too rough with your companion as well.” Haldan said apologetically. “I suppose that some damages cannot be avoided though.” He tilted his head at Ori and greeted happily, “Hello there! Good to see you again!”

“You!” Ori sputtered, his face frozen in shock for a brief second before contorting in a livid mixture of pain, hate and fury. Bilbo had to hold Ori down from charging angrily at the man despite the Dwarf was still bound.

“Yes, yes me. And here I thought Mister Baggins was overreacting when he woke up. Master Dwarf, you certainly have got him beat.” Haldan huffed out, bemused but unimpressed by the display of aggression. The large man behind him cracked his knuckles menacingly.

When no other answers were forthcoming from either Bilbo or Ori, Haldan got up and stretched his back, the joints of his spine popping unpleasantly. Bilbo felt a thrill of petty satisfaction in knowing that sitting on the floor had left the man just as uncomfortable as he was. “Well then, that certainly was interesting!” Haldan brushed the dust from his tunic with both of his hands. “As much as I would like to stay, I’m afraid I must be off! Lots of things left to plot. I’m sure you understand.” Haldan sent a quick signal with the flick of his wrist and the large man moved forward to pick up the tray and the discarded dishware. “I will have someone bring another meal for your friend shortly. Have a pleasant night, gentlemen.”

“Wait!” Bilbo called to his retreating back. He had one final question left to ask. “Why are you doing all this – the tea, the conversation?”

Haldan paused but he did not turn to face Bilbo. “I figured that at the very least, I could spare to tell you the truth. Consider it repayment for the kindness you have shown me.” With those parting words, he walked out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

=====

“Aye, your Majesty! I was attacked by four Men just by the outskirts of the camp! It was completely unprovoked! If I find out who those honourless, cowardly weasels are, I’ll have their beards, every last one of them!”

Frór placed a placating hand on Borin’s shoulder and gently pushed the incensed Dwarf back on to his cot. “Rest, friend,” he muttered, ignoring Borin’s grumbling.

“Can you recall any of their faces?” Thorin asked from the other side of the narrow bed, a bit too brusquely if Balin’s warning look was anything to judge by. Honestly, he could care less what he sounded like at the moment so long as Borin gave him the answers that he needed. “We will also need you to recount the events prior and during the attack.”

“Nay, your Majesty, I cannot recall what their faces looked like.” Borin shook his head apologetically. He immediately winced, lifting one of his hands to his head to gingerly prod against the thick swath of bandages wrapped there. “They were dressed as all the other workers would: thick, non-descript tunic, brown pants, worn leather boots, and gloves. They were also wearing their hoods up and they covered their faces with their scarves. However, I did notice that the one who stabbed me was a very large man, taller and stouter than King Bard. There was also a very small man in the group, real thin and bony looking.”

“One large man, two medium sized ones, and a very small one. That’s not much to go by.” Balin sighed, shifting closer to his King in a show of support. Thorin distantly realized that the tension rolling off of his shoulders must have been obvious to everyone in the room and he tried to force himself to relax. He needed to keep a cool head if he wanted any chance to save Bilbo and Ori. “Is there anything else that stood out about your attackers? Maybe a scar on the forehead or a birthmark somewhere that was uncovered?” Balin asked again.

“I’m afraid there is none, Master Balin,” Borin said regretfully. He stroked at his dark beard in thought. “They were careful to keep as much of their features as hidden as possible.”

Thorin tried not to let his frustration show.

“Everyone has gotten themselves comfortably settled, your Majesty,” Dáin announced as he walked in the room, drawing the Dwarves’ attention to him while inadvertently distracting Thorin from his increasingly angry thoughts. “Hopefully, the healers will feel less harassed now that everyone has gotten out of their way and peace has been restored to their tents.” He winked at a passerby healer and gave him a small, sheepish wave. He was rewarded with a dirty look.

None of the healers were impressed when thirteen, panicked Dwarves came barging into their sanctuary with their loud, frantic demands to see Borin, and it was only through the presence of both the King and the Iron Hills Lord that they were not promptly booted off the premise. In the end, it was agreed that only the King, the Lord and Balin were allowed in while the rest of the Company had to wait outside, where they would sit quietly and cease their disruptive behaviour at once, thank you very much!

“Have I missed anything important?” Dáin asked politely. He sidled beside Frór and bent over to greet Borin, pressing his forehead against his advisor's. “Old friend, I am glad to see that you are well,” the Lord said warmly, looking very much like a great weight had lifted off of his shoulders.

“It will take a lot more than a nick to the side and a blow to the head to keep this old Dwarf down,” Borin answered, his voice rough, but he was grinning widely back at Dáin.

Thorin swallowed, remembering the same fragile gesture that he had shared with Bilbo and what it felt like to willingly surround himself in his warm embrace. He had never told Bilbo this, but in that moment it was as if the Hobbit had applied a salve over his heart, one that soothed away all the hurt and the coiling anger in his body, leaving behind a rare sense of quiet stillness that he thought he would never feel again after Frerin’s death. That same feeling of peace only came back to him when he had Bilbo pressed tightly against him, locked in a passionate kiss that neither of them wanted to end.

Thorin balled his fists and made himself look away. He did not see Balin’s sad, understanding expression or the meaningful look he shared with Frór.

Clearing his throat delicately, Frór began in his characteristic unflappable manner, “Master Borin has been telling his Majesty that his attackers had gone to great lengths to keep themselves from being identified, and it was with utmost regret that he could not find any identifiable features on them save for their body size.” The Dwarf paused briefly to glance at Dáin, who was drawing away from Borin with one last, friendly clap to his shoulder. “Now that everyone is present, perhaps we should move on to discuss the events leading to the attack?”

Borin sighed, annoyed and tired by the memories of his attack. “It was my turn to work at the farm and knowing that the Hob – ” he caught the flash of irritation in Thorin’s eyes and hastily corrected, “Master Baggins was working there as well, I was hoping to use this as an opportunity to approach him. I have just found out some distressing news about that Dale advisor that Master Baggins is so fond of, the one who calls himself Haldan, and I wanted to warn Master Baggins to stay away from him. I believe that the man is more dangerous than he seems.”

Borin looked around and when he saw that no one had any questions, he continued quieter than before, “I found out that Haldan is nothing but a crook who worked with the Master to drain Lake-town dry of its riches. Now that it’s in ruins, Haldan has apparently moved on to a bigger, richer target: King Bard himself.”

“And what proof do you have that these rumours are true?” Thorin asked, sceptical. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Who’s to say that these are not stories conjured out of jealousy to slander the good Master Haldan’s name?”

“These are no mere stories, your Majesty. Haldan worked for the Master for many years as his accountant and during that time, the Master had consistently pocketed a fair amount of the city’s gold. This was discovered by the townsmen when they were trying to see if they could afford to fix the damages done by Smaug.” Borin raised a questioning brow to Thorin but his tone was in no way disrespectful when he added, “Who do you suppose helped the Master cover his tracks in the books, your Majesty?”

Thorin had to concede that Borin did have a point there.

Balin, however, was still unconvinced. He narrowed his eyes at Borin. “These are dangerous accusations that you are making, Master Borin,” he said gravely.

“And I trust my research and my sources to not lead me astray,” Borin responded confidently in turn. He met Balin’s measuring gaze without flinching.

“Gentlemen, please. We can discuss more about Haldan afterwards. For now, let us continue." Dáin gestured at Borin in a universal hand wave to encourage him to get on with. "You found out about Master Haldan and you wanted to warn Master Baggins. What happened next?”

“It was only until after we have returned from Dale that I was able to run into Master Baggins. I was at the outskirts of the Dwarven camp and I could see him walking with a young Dwarf some distance ahead of me. Before I could catch up to him however, I saw four Men trailing suspiciously behind him."

Thorin sucked in a sharp breath at the disturbing picture that Borin's words had planted in his mind. How long has Bilbo been followed without him noticing? How long has Bilbo's safety been so horribly compromised? He cursed under his breath; he knew he should have not given in to Bilbo's request by dismissing his team of Dwarven bodyguards.

When I get him back, Thorin thought, because he was going to get Bilbo back safe and sound, no ifs and buts, I am assigning at least twenty guards to Bilbo on top of the four who guard the bedroom's entrance.

"Those men were your attackers?" Dáin asked but the flat way he had said that made it sound like a foregone conclusion rather than a question. Borin nodded.

"I stopped them off course, first asking if they were lost, then asking what business they have around this area, who they were working for, what their jobs were, what was their schedule for the day, were they having a pleasant evening, how were they enjoying their walk, and who did they say they were working for again?" Borin held his hand up and he ticked his fingers off one by one as he listed out the questions he had asked. "Just employing the standard interrogation tactics to catch them off guard, really."

Frór crossed his arms and smiled, the corner of his mouth delicately quirking upwards in a gesture that was oozing with vindictive satisfaction. "I trust that you were successful?" he drawled out.

"Oh yes, they toppled like a house of cards. Couldn't keep their stories straight at all." Borin snorted, "In retrospect, that was where I made my mistake. I was so focused on catching them lying that I had failed to notice that I was very much alone at the time. Master Baggins and his friend had wandered out of sight."

"They all jumped on me at once. One of them managed to take a swipe at me with his knife and the last thing I remembered was something smashing into the back of my head." Borin absentmindedly picked at the rough, white bandaging around his head. He ignored Frór's disapproving look. "I managed to land a good few punches to their legs and knees before I went down though. Not sure how much damage I actually dealt out, but I would like to believe that at least one of them would have some trouble hobbling around for the next few days."

Thorin mentally went through Borin's account again, committing to memory what little description he was given of the captors: Four men, possibly sporting some form of leg injury, one larger than King Bard, one small and thin, the other two are of average size.

Balin was right; there wasn't much to go after, but Thorin was persistent if nothing else and he would continue searching to the ends of Middle-Earth if that was what it took to get his Bilbo back.

"Thank you, Master Borin, for your help." Thorin tilted his head lightly towards the bedridden Dwarf. "I will send Master Óin in to look over your injuries. He is especially talented with creating salves that could treat all kinds of wounds. I am sure that under his expert care, you will be on your feet in no time." He brushed aside Borin's flustered refusal with a quiet but firm, "I insist, Master Borin," and with one last nod towards the Iron Hills advisors, Thorin left the tent, Balin and Dáin tight on his heels.

The moment he set foot outside, the Company members immediately jumped to their feet and clamoured to him.

"Well, what did he say?" Dwalin was the first one to call out impatiently. Among the cacophony of noise and movement, he was standing almost entirely too still with his hands inches away from the daggers that Thorin knew were sheathed in his belt. Thorin had only seen Dwalin like this whenever he was on the hunt out in the wild, and he remembered his friend describing what it felt like to be in that headspace. "It's like your whole world, everything that you see and hear, has been narrowed down so that you can only focus on your goal to catch your prey. Everything else that is unrelated is just muffled, background rubbish," the warrior had said, shrugging.

Thorin had yet to see Dwalin fail in his hunts whenever he set his mind to it. He almost felt bad for those kidnappers in that brief second. Almost.

"Master Borin could not see his attackers' faces, they had disguised themselves well." Thorin admitted. The disappointment had not ebbed, not even after he had some time to digest this news. "What he could tell us was that there were four Men, dressed as everyday workers, who attacked him. Within the group, there was one who was large and heavily built, more so that King Bard, and another member who was small and thin. Master Borin might have also wounded one or more of them in the leg."

"That's not a bad place to start actually," Nori grunted out from his spot beside Dori. His older brother was still looking paler than usual and he was obviously leaning on Nori to keep himself standing, but Thorin was glad to note that the lost look of shock from earlier was fading.

At Nori's vague statement, everyone turned to the thief in surprise. When he noticed this, he elaborated impatiently, "The attackers looked like four workers from Dale or Lake-town. The only way they could have gotten into the camp was through the South Gate with all the other workers. On top of that, Dale and Lake-town workers tend to visit the camp for their routine supply drop-off and pick-up, and I know they operate on a different schedule from each other." He paused to let that information sink in. "If we can narrow down the time that the attack took place, we can match it with the schedule and find out which town they are from."

"Master Borin saw them trailing after Master Baggins and Master Ori after he returned from the farm," Dáin did not hesitate to volunteer immediately.

"Bilbo and Ori were probably walking back to the King's tent for our six o'clock meeting, which meant the kidnapping had to be just before that time," Bofur called out helpfully from behind the two Ri brothers. He returned Nori's look of gratefulness with a bashful smile.

"After the attack, they must have used something to carry Master Baggins and Young Ori out as well," Glóin added. His words stirred a fresh bout of interested murmur from his friends. "A cart, a wheelbarrow, anything. That should help narrow down our search some more!"

"An injured worker leaving the camp at around six o'clock with a cart is much more obvious to find," Bombur concluded with flourish, earning him a clap to the shoulder from the Dwarves around him.

Thorin nodded at his trusted entourage, his mind racing as he decided what he should do next. Already, he was feeling a resurgence of hope that this situation was not as bleak as he had first believed. "Master Nori," he ordered, "see what you can find out about all the workers who visited the camp. The resources of Erebor are to your disposal. Take anyone and anything that you may find useful, but be discreet in your search. We do not want to alert the kidnappers that we are on their trail."

Nori bowed lightly to his king. "Thank you for the offer but I work best alone and I have everything I need on my person. I will need help with sorting out the information once I have them." With a final bow, he gently guided Dori to Bofur, who gladly accepted his position as Dori's newest crutch, and left after whispering quick reassurance to both Dwarves.

"I have made quite the network of friends from the betting pools that I have set up and I am supposed to meet with them in ten minutes. With your permission, I can ask them if they have spotted any visitors who fit Master Borin's description. They are more than happy to share any gossip," Glóin offered.

Thorin nodded, "Do so but do not mention the kidnapping. After your meeting, return to my tent with the information you have collected. We will hopefully be able to coordinate with Nori to piece together something useful."

"We want to help as well!" Fíli moved to the front of the group with Kíli by his side and they stared at their Uncle with twin looks of determination on their faces.

Thorin reached over to clasp a hand on both of his nephews' shoulders and he wondered if there will ever be a day when he will cease to be proud of his boys. "I will need you to find Roäc at the Ravenhill. Have him send out all of his kin to survey the area around Dale and Lake-town for Bilbo and Ori. We can at least get an aerial search started. Let him know that for his help, I will gladly gift him a satchel of the brightest set of gold beads that he will ever lay his eyes on." They nodded solemnly and dashed after Glóin's retreating back.

"Master Óin," Thorin called out, startling the Dwarf, "if you can be so kind as to look at Master Borin's injuries, I would be much obliged. I promised him that you could provide the proper healing salves to expedite his recovery."

"I most definitely can, your Majesty!" Óin puffed his chest out, looking supremely pleased by the king's high regard of his talents. "I shall get to it at once!"

There was a pause as Thorin considered how he should divide up the rest of his team while everyone eagerly waited for their set of orders. "I plan to ride to Dale to speak to King Bard," Thorin finally admitted, "but I cannot bring everyone with me or else I will risk drawing too much attention to myself and the purpose of my visit. I am thinking of travelling with two other companions, no more than three."

"I am going with you," Dwalin growled out, his tone and hard gaze brook no argument. It wasn't as if Thorin was surprised by Dwalin's swift decision either. His friend was not one to sit idly by when there was a chance for him to be doing something to help, especially when there was so much at risk from failure. It would be cruel to deny him otherwise.

"I am going as well," Dori suddenly spoke up and that took Thorin, along with all the other remaining Dwarves, by surprise. "If there is anything I can do for Ori – " His voice broke and he shook his head. "I am going," he repeated simply, stubbornly.

"I will stay, your Majesty. Someone has to prepare the gold as per the kidnappers' request," Balin calmly volunteered. He added with a hint of sarcasm, "Not to mention, one of us has to suffer through the tediousness of paperwork once Master Nori and Master Glóin return to report their missions."

"Bombur, Bifur and I will help Master Balin! It is cruel to leave a Dwarf alone with nothing but paperwork for company," Bofur said jovially with a cheeky wink to Balin. The advisor rolled his eyes in Bofur's direction in mock exasperation.

"Thank you, brave heroes for saving me from this cruel and unusual torture," Balin deadpanned and Thorin found himself reluctantly smiling at the display. Leave it to Balin to retain all of his wits and dry sarcasm even in the most dire of situations.

Dáin grinned widely at Balin. "How very noble of you, Master Balin," he exclaimed, bright and energetic, "but unlike you, I am not above running from the dreaded paperwork, and run I shall, now that I have been given the perfect excuse to do so!" He signed a quick 'thank you' in Iglishmêk to the scowling, unimpressed advisor. "I leave this camp in Master Balin and Master Frór's very capable hands and, if my cousin doesn't mind, I would very much like to pay King Bard a visit as well."

"Now that everyone knows what we're doing, what are we waiting for?" Dwalin grunted. "Let's go."

=====

"Can you see anything?" Ori asked breathlessly. He shifted his stance and tightened his grip on Bilbo's feet to keep him steady.

"No," Bilbo called out, gripping the window ledge to keep himself more balanced while standing on Ori's shoulders. The last thing he wanted was to fall and crush his already injured friend. "All I see is grass, more grass and – oh, I think I might hear a roaring river nearby!"

"But can you see the river?"

"No, there is nothing to see out of this window. If this is how it looks like from all directions, then we are literally stuck in the middle of nowhere." Bilbo scanned the area again in some vain hope that he will spot something more interesting. "A grassy, flat piece of nowhere," he repeated, defeated. "Alright, you can lower me down now. We will have to come up with another plan."

It wasn't the first time that Bilbo and Ori were met with disappointment that evening. Immediately after Haldan had left and Ori was freed from his rope bindings, he and Bilbo searched frantically through their pockets. "My knife, my slingshot and my money are gone," Ori said, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. His eyes widened when he felt something else missing and he blurted out, "did they cut off my braid?!"

Bilbo paused his rummaging and looked up."Oh, you are missing a braid!" He made a disgusted face, "What could they possibly do with that?"

"I don't know and I don't want to know either," Ori replied sullenly. He wrapped his arms protectively over his chest, looking so miserable that Bilbo's heart ached for the Dwarf. "I just wished they had cut from a different spot on my head. My mother gave me the ribbon that was used to tie that braid!"

"I'll get it back for you, Ori," Bilbo promised, his hand already reaching into his pocket where he usually kept his tell-tale velvet pouch. "I just need to put on my – " He paused mid-sentence when he felt the lining of his very empty pocket. Frantically, he patted himself down, despairing that he could not feel his ring on his person. "Those thieving scoundrels!" he exclaimed, "They stole my ring!"

He chose to ignore the irony of that statement and how he had essentially done the same to that creature in the Misty Mountains.

"Now what do we do?" Ori asked, his eyes catching on the waning beam of sunlight that fell on a patch of broken floor board. "At least we have a window in here to let us know what time of the day it is. It looks like we still have a little bit of daylight left before night falls."

No sooner had Ori finished uttering those words that he and Bilbo widened their eyes in realization. Together in unison, they followed the light beam to its source with their gaze, craning their heads until they spotted the round, little window high above them. Neither of them could reach it alone but maybe if one was standing on top the other's shoulders...

Bilbo and Ori exchanged long glances at each other.

And this was what brought them to their current predicament.

"It's a shame that neither of us could fit through that space," Bilbo mused when they had finally taken a seat on the floor to think of a new escape plan. "If only I had my ring back, I could have used that to sneak out when they bring us our food. I could use it to steal the keys to this door and find our belongings." He rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands, groaning in frustration. This entire situation was reminding him too much of the miserable experience he had in Thranduil's hall. He had joked darkly to himself at that time, in a sad attempt to keep his spirit up, that escaping from captivity was one of those once in a lifetime experiences that makes for a good pub story. That was, of course, before his meeting with Smaug which, as far as pub stories go, trumps every single one in Bilbo's repertoire.

He really did not need to go through yet another capture again.

"I think I might have heard one of the men talk about your ring."

Bilbo whipped his head up to stare at Ori. The young Dwarf had seated himself comfortably with his back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, and his clasped hands resting over his belly. His eyes were looking up at the ceiling, lost in thought. "When I first woke up, the men were arguing loudly about who got to keep it. A fight broke out and things got ugly until one of them strong armed his way into victory." Ori pinched the bridge of his nose, scrunching his face in concentration. "I'm pretty sure they called him Galion."

"Great," Bilbo muttered, burying his face in his hands again. Just when he thought his luck could not get any more rotten. "They probably discovered what it can do. Why else would they be fighting over it like that?"

"It will be alright, Mister Baggins. We've been through worse." Ori got up, dusted himself off and took a seat beside Bilbo. He gently nudged the Hobbit with his shoulders, earning him a small smile from his friend. "It's a shame that we had to miss that meeting with the King though. I wonder what he wanted to see us all for?" He pulled back, alarmed, when Bilbo started to choke violently. "Are you alright, Mister Baggins? Was it something I said?" he asked in distress.

Bilbo was saved from having to explain himself when the door swung open and one of their captors stumbled in. A pungent smell of alcohol came wafting after him, flooding the room.

"Well, well, well! Would ya look at that! How're you gents doin' this fine ev'ning?" The newcomer slurred out loudly. His eyes were fever bright, his dark hair and beard were scraggly, and his mouth was stretched into a too-wide grin that showcased his yellowing teeth. He took an unsteady step forward, almost falling face-first to the ground from the dangerous way that he was swaying, but he regained his footing at the last second. He was holding a short dagger in one hand and in the other, a set of brass keys. They jingled with every swing of his arms.

Bilbo stayed completely still and glared darkly at the man. As far as enemies go, he wasn't terribly impressive; he was much shorter than his other companions, barely standing an inch or two taller than Thorin by Bilbo's estimation. However, whereas the Dwarf's strength and solid build could more than make up for his lack of height, their new visitor was rail thin.

"Oh come on luv, don't be like that! I just wanna talk is all!" The man cooed when neither Bilbo nor Ori returned his greeting. He cocked his head to the side and swung his knife at them, adding in a sing-song voice, "Now which one of yous could tell me more 'bout that pretty lil' ring of yours?"

That question took Bilbo by surprise but he did not react outwardly at all. From the corner of his eyes, he could see that Ori had also kept his face stony.

He did not miss the way that the Dwarf's eyes kept flicking to the set of keys either.

"Ring? What ring?" Bilbo asked politely, his mind quickly coming up with an idea to escape. He glanced at Ori and nodded his head just a fraction, hoping that the Dwarf would catch on, and then he quickly turned his attention back to their captor. "I don't know anything about any rings," he repeated.

The man laughed a dry raspy laugh. "Come now, don't play dumb. I'm talking 'bout the ring we found on you. The magic ring!"

Bilbo rubbed at his chin, making a show of concentrating on his thoughts before he broke into a bright smile. "Oh! Yes, that magic ring! Why, I woke up and found it missing and you cannot imagine my distress!" He planted his hands on his hips as he levelled the man with a disapproving look. "I hope you gentlemen have plans to return it! That ring means a great deal to me!" He did not dare to turn to Ori as the Dwarf slowly edged away from him.

"Oh no, no, no, we wouldn't dare," the man shook his head fervently with gross exaggeration. Bilbo was unimpressed by what horrible liar he was. "But you see, Master Hafling, me and my – " he hiccupped, "me and my companions were real impressed by this ring of yours and we just...wanna borrow it, is all. To take a look!" He looked extremely pleased with himself, no doubt thinking that his fast wit had fooled Bilbo. "We'd be happy to return it to ya if you can maybe tell us where to get s'more?"

Bilbo blinked. "Some more?" he echoed dumbly because honestly, he had never heard anything more ridiculous. Were they expecting him to keep a stash of magic rings in his tent?

"Yes, of course!" The man nodded eagerly, his large grin was threatening to split his face but his eyes were dark and hungry. He stumbled towards Bilbo and the Hobbit automatically backed away to keep out of reach from the knife. "You must be able to get yer hands on s'more! You're friends with that Wizard aren't ya? And you're friends with those Elves and with Bard and with them Dwarves as well!" The man shuffled closer, forcing Bilbo to take another uneasy step back. "And don't even get me started on them Dwarves! Everyone knows 'bout you and Thorin!"

Bilbo flinched. "Me and Thorin?" he squeaked out.

"Yes! You and Thorin and your...epic love story!" The drunk threw his hands up impatiently with the knife and the keys still in his grip. "It's out for the whole bloody world to hear, what with 'em ballads – whatsit called? 'The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins' and 'The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins and Thorin Oakenshield'! And let's not forget about them suggestive drawings on those pamphlets!"

Bilbo felt a flood of mortification came over him. By the makers, was he and Thorin the last to know about their mutual attraction? He glanced quickly at Ori, who was almost behind their captor, and caught the Dwarf mouthing the words 'I'm so sorry' back at him. Ori looked extremely sheepish.

"W-well, you're...absolutely right!" Bilbo ended with false cheer, trying to regain control of the situation while not glaring at Ori for those images. "About my...my relationship with Thorin and my friendship with the Elves, with King Bard and with Gandalf." He leaned slightly forward and dropped his voice to whisper conspiratorially, "I also know where to get more of those rings, but to do that, you...uh..." He wracked his brain for an answer.

"Yes, go on, wot is it?" the man demanded none too kindly.

"You..uh...you will need," Bilbo stammered. "You will need to – duck!"

He rolled out of the way just as Ori launched himself on their captor's back, sending them both crashing violently into the ground. The knife and the keys flew out of the man's grip and they skittered across the floor in different directions. Torn between the two items, it took Bilbo a split second longer to decide on grabbing the keys first before he could dash over to where he thought he had seen them land. Meanwhile, he could hear Ori desperately wrestling the man into submission, and he blocked out their pained grunts to focus on his search. The darkness of the room and the multiple holes in the broken planks made spotting the keys extremely difficult and Bilbo, frustrated, immediately got to his knees, groping around blindly for the lost item with shaking hands and a racing heart.

Come on, where is it? Where is it? He thought frantically as sweat began to bead his brow. His fingers brushed against an object – a solid ring – and the resounding clink it made was the most beautiful sound he has ever heard. Yes, found it!

Ori's pained cry startled Bilbo out of his premature sense of victory and the Hobbit whirled around just in time to see his friend being forced to his knees by their captor. Gripping tightly on Ori's hair with one hand, the man pulled the Dwarf's head back, exposing the pale length of his vulnerable neck. His other hand drew out a second, concealed knife from his belt and he pressed the blade menacingly against Ori's jugular.

"You shouldn't have done that, Dwarf!" The man spat out, his face filled with terrifying rage. "Just for that, I'm gonna slit yer throat open in front of yer friend!"

"What in the – Aldor, you idiot, stop! We need him alive!"

Three other figures rushed into the room with two of them pulling the drunk – Aldor, Bilbo's mind supplied – away from Ori. The third man beelined straight towards Bilbo and had him pinned face-first to the ground before he could fight back. The Hobbit desperately twisted to get himself loose but to no avail and he let out a cry in protest when he felt the keys wrenched forcibly out of his hands.

"You got him, Mallor?"

"Yes, Galion," answered the man who was holding him down and Bilbo felt the hand gripping his shoulder tightened painfully. "He isn't going anywhere."

Bilbo raised his head as best he could from his pinned position. Galion? Wasn't that the one who has his ring?

"Good," Galion grunted distractedly as he tried to hold a violently thrashing Ori still, but the Dwarf was having none of it. Ori was fighting like a mad man; he was clawing at his captor's tunics, throwing wild kicks that end up missing more than anything. "For the love of the Gods, Aldor! What the hell did you do?"

"He accosted us!" Bilbo shouted desperately before Aldor could get a word in edgewise. "He came in drunk and attacked us!"

"Wait, what? That's not true at all!" Aldor looked up and snarled. He was held in a grappling hold by the large man, the one from before who was present during Haldan's visit.

"We were minding our own business and he came in waving a knife at us, muttering something about magic! We were acting entirely on self defence!" Bilbo cried out, loud enough to drown out Aldor's spluttering protests. "I thought Haldan didn't want us dead! Wait until he hears about this! I'm going to have a word with him!"

"Now, now, Master Hobbit, let's not be too hasty!" Galion replied, having finally subdued Ori by pinning him to the ground in a similar hold that kept Bilbo from escaping. "I'm sure that this is all just a massive misunderstanding! Our friend here overindulged and you know how people can be with a bit of liquid courage warming their bellies. Isn't that right, Aldor?"

Aldor mumbled something unpleasant under his breath, but even in his state, he could recognize the cold, dangerous glint in Galion's gaze. He nodded once, cowed into submission.

"See? No hard feelings, right?" Galion grinned, sharply. "Now, is there something else that we could bring you before we go, gentlemen?"

"Bandages and salves," Bilbo gritted out, remembering Ori's cry of pain. "And a pan of fresh water."

"Of course! We shall have that for you soon. Have a pleasant evening!"

Bilbo felt himself being roughly released and he promptly rolled over to his back, wincing at the tightness of his joints and the lingering ache in his muscles. He waited until he heard the door close and the sound of retreating footsteps fade before clamouring to his feet.

"Ori! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Ori replied, pale-faced and shaking as Bilbo helped him sit up. "Just got my leg hurt on a piece of floor board during that tussle. It's nothing. What's more important is that the plan was a complete success!"

Bilbo watched Ori reach into the folds of his tunic to pull out a familiar velvet pouch. "I pick pocketed this from Galion." He grinned, tossing the bag back to a visibly gobsmacked Bilbo. "It looks like we got the ring back!"

-----

Author's Notes:

Thank you everyone for all your lovely reviews/comments/kudos/favourites/recs! As always, knowing that there are people out there who are enjoying this is the best motivation that anyone can get! I *do* read all of the comments that you leave me and I try to respond to all of them as well (except if they were left as anon on ffnet, then sorry, I can't respond to those! Rest assured, I have read them though!) Please let me know how you are enjoying this chapter and many, many thanks once again! Hopefully, the next part will really bring us to the end of this fic, ha!

Notes about this chapter:

[1] I made the assumption that a gold coin from Erebor has a gold content of 10 grams/coin, which is higher than a Julius Caesar Aureus coin (8.18 grams). 1 coin is the modern equivalent of $402 US. Based on the ransomer's demand, Haldan and his crew are walking away with a total of approximately $10 million. Divide this up by five people and we have $2 million per person. On top of that, those $2 million weigh about 110 lb. Quite heavy!

They couldn't ask for anymore because they couldn't carry anything heavier while making a fast getaway.

I also made the assumption that each Ereborean gold coin is the size of a Canadian/American quarter. Those $2 million worth of coins can fit neatly into a 8 inch x 9 inch x 5 inch box. For non-Americans, that's 20.3 cm x 22.9 cm x 12.7 cm.

And that's entirely wayyyy too much math than anyone cares to know. If you're still reading this, you deserve a cookie.

[2] Bilbo's flash back to the Fell Winter (T.A. 2911 – 2912): Bilbo was 22 years old at the time. I took some creative liberties and assumed that he was a young child.

[3] Fili, Kili and the Ravens: I am operating on the assumption that Fili and Kili do not know Raven-speech. Fortunately, Roäc spoke Westron and like most Ravens, enjoys shiny things, which explains Thorin's payment of 'brightest golden beads'.

#thorin_oakenshield

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#thorin_oakenshield