A Shot in the Dark (Thilbo - Bagginshield)

Chapter 8

The Misty Mountains.

If there were ever a place in Middle Earth that Bilbo would have been happy never to see again, it would have been that mountain range. He could see it from a distance, even miles away, and the sight of it made his stomach twist into knots.

—all he can focus on is the cold. It is the type of cold that he has never felt in all his years. It is a cold that burns when it touches his skin, makes every breath hurt, and turns every joint in his body stiff—

"Is there no other way than this mountain?" he asked Bombur as they lingered in the back of the Company.

"Well, one could go around the mountain if they were up to it," the cook answered. "But it takes a lot longer."

"And we don't have time to spare," added Oin from his other side.

Bilbo frowned. The first time around, he had never thought about why they made their journey in such haste besides the apparent reason for the door. But now he found himself curious as to what the cause could be.

"Why is it so important for us to get to the mountain as quickly as possible?" he asked aloud.

"Because others have heard the rumors that Smaug may be dead or gone and are seeking our treasure. We must hurry to beat them," Bombur rubbed his belly.

"Besides, we've been waiting for decades to reclaim our home. We will wait no longer," Oin added with a fierce scowl that could rival Dwalin's on a bad day.

"Ahh, that makes sense." He nodded before another question formed from the answer. "But who would want to challenge a rumor of a possible dead dragon just for gold?"

"When it comes to greed, there are no depths that one will not go to satisfy their lust," Oin replied. "We Dwarves know it well. It is a fine line we walk between greed and passion. It is one we must always tread with caution."

—there is a look in Thorin's eyes that he does not know. He had never seen those blue eyes darken considerably or become so detached from life. He follows the king's gaze and finds it is on the Arkenstone and feels himself turn cold—

I understand what you mean, Bilbo thought, glancing to the front of the Company where Thorin led them on.

I understand.

~*~

It was dark when they finally reached the mountain.

Everyone agreed they would rest for the night before beginning the journey through the mountain. They set up camp, and everyone began attending to their duties and needs. Without anything to do, Bilbo found himself a snug nook to curl up in and watched his Dwarves go about their business.

It was a silly and overly sentimental thing for him to do, but he found that he enjoyed watching his comrades more than speaking to them. He enjoyed watching Bombur become so engrossed in his cooking that he tuned out the entire world. He fondly watched as Ori scribbled in his book and smeared ink on his cheeks every time he pushed a braid out of his eyes. He liked to memorize the melody that Dwalin hummed to himself while cleaning his weapons and the sound of Kili's laughter as he teased his brother.

I have become the old man I swore I would never be, he admitted to himself, snorting and shaking his head.

"Something funny, Master Burglar?"

Bilbo glanced up to the Dwarf that had joined him and shook his head with a grin. "Simply laughing at myself, Master Bofur."

"Often, that is the best thing to laugh at," Bofur agreed, sitting beside him. He held a small, curved knife and a piece of unmarked wood.