Of Dragons, Dwobbits and Dwarves

Chapter Two

Nothing happened.

Bilba stood frozen mere feet from the gates of Moria, blood-slicked stone cold beneath her feet. A breeze, heavy with the threat of rain, wrapped around her. The baby dragon was a solid weight in her arms, warmth from its tiny body radiating against her skin through her clothes.

She was outside Moria.

She drew in a deep breath and released it, then another and another. Her body felt strange, hot one second and cold the next. Her muscles wound tight with tension around her bones and a light tremor crawled across her skin. She hunched her shoulders, pulling her head down as best she could as she waited for the alarm to sound. Any minute she was sure orcs would come pouring out of the gate after her and wrench the baby dragon from her arms.

Seconds passed.

Nothing happened.

Bilba swallowed, feeling her nerves settle, if only minutely. She risked a look behind her but Moria continued to sleep.

She kept herself hunched and turned to survey the area before her. Clouds scudded across the sky, the moon shining through in brief bursts that cast a silver glow over the remnants of the battle. Orc and dwarf, even firedrakes lay crumpled and silent. The only movement was the occasional brief flutter of a sleeve or hair, the breeze giving false life to the fallen.

Most likely the orcs would leave the dead to rot, though it was also possible they would go out and harvest what they could for food, particularly the dragons.

Orcs were not picky eaters.

For a brief second, Bilba considered it herself, but then rejected it.

"We are not orcs, Bilba. Do not act like one."

She was still standing there like an idiot.

What should she do?

The rider told her to go to the dwarves but the only ones she could see would not be going anywhere but back to earth. The dwarven army, whatever had been left of it, was gone. She saw no sign or hint of what direction they'd headed.

Should she go back and ask the rider?

She risked another look behind her, considering, but then rejected that also. She didn't want to go back in there, not for anything.

"If you ever escape, Bilba, go to the Shire, or Erebor and find your father."

Bilba's mind calmed. Her mother had told her what to do. She would do that.

She took a shuffling step to her left. When her mother had still been alive she'd used to describe the outside world to Bilba over and over and over again. As they worked her mother would have her memorize what'd she'd taught, querying Bilba on the best way to get from one location to another, no matter where she was.

After her mother had died Bilba had learned to visualize the journeys in her mind. She would often spend hours, particularly after she'd drawn Azog's notice, mentally traveling all over the Middle Earth of her imagination.

Because of that she now knew that left would take her in the direction of a pass that would allow her to go through the mountains and toward the Shire. If she didn't take the pass and continued on instead she would eventually find a path through the forest of Mirkwood that would take her to Erebor.

She would not go to Erebor. Her father had never come for them, no matter how much her mother had believed.

Bilba would certainly not go to him now.