Insurrection

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"Where is he?!"

The upper levels of Erebor were in a complete uproar, several dwarven mothers in various states of distress and violence as they tried to locate their children. Bilbo had been browsing the bakery stalls when he'd heard a woman to his left calling out for her son and daughter, visibly upset at having lost them in the crowd. He'd glanced aside for a moment to make sure that Frodo was still sitting next to the stall, smiling when he saw his nephew talking with a red-haired dwarfling. Unfortunately, it all went downhill after that, an angry mother from another aisle shouting at a small group of male dwarves, accusing the four of them with the sudden disappearance of her son as well.

Surging crowds had pulled Bilbo away from the bakery stall, the sounds of Glóril and her angry voice fading into the slush pile for several minutes. He eventually ended up right next to the distraught mother, eyes widening when he saw her lunge for the group of dwarves from the other aisle. Glóril stood right behind her, a little dwarfling girl clutched in her arms.

"Where's my son, you orc-humping bastard?" snarled the mother, a serrated knife in her hands. "I'll carve out your eyes if you don't tell me!"

"And my daughter?!" yelled another mother.

"They took my son, too!" accused the other dwarf mother from earlier. "I found a toy of his on the ground. He'd never leave it behind except by force. What did you filthy fuckers do with them?!"

Heart racing at the mothers' pleas, Bilbo turned around and physically shoved his way through the burgeoning crowd. It took him several minutes, but he finally found the bakery stand again. However, to the hobbit's absolute horror, neither Frodo nor the other little boy were there.

"Frodo? Where are you? Frodo?!"

"Donel?!

The hobbit looked further down the aisle and spotted a dwarf woman frantically looking in and out of corners, a pair of crying babies strapped to her back and pulling at her red braids. It didn't take long for the pieces to click in Bilbo's mind.

"Do you have a little boy with braided red hair?" asked Bilbo when he approached her. "Not old enough for a beard yet? Wearing a green tunic?"

"Oh, yes, yes," breathed the mother in relief. "Have you seen him? Where is he? I told him not to run off!"

"I last saw him with my nephew sitting right over here," said Bilbo, leading her to the bakery and meat stands. "But then I got caught in the crowds and it seems that several other children have vanished in the last few minutes as well."

The mother's pleasantly plump face hardened at that statement. "It's those bloody Rhûn miners! All they've been doing for months is snooping around and arguing with the foremen! And now they've taken my Donel! Where are they?"

"Right over here."

Neither of them made it very far before they heard a piercing scream from one of the nearby market entrances. Bilbo felt bile rise up in his throat, immediately recognizing the high-pitched sound as belonging to a young child. He heard shouts, watching as Dori emerged from the crowds and ran off towards the doorway, both of his swords drawn and ready for confrontation. Several more screams came from inside the crowd, Bilbo briefly catching a glimpse of Glóril cutting into a dwarf's shoulder. Despite his ignorance about these dwarves' identities, all of the others seemed to be very well aware of who they were and what they might have done with the children.

"Tell me where they are or else, I'll cut each of your fingers off!" snarled Glóril, an enormous knife slicing into a scruffy-looking dwarf's cheek. "Oh, so no talking, eh? Then it looks like Meela's getting a finger-necklace tonight."

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